THE 

JUVENILE ORAT.OR; 

OR, 

EVERY SCHOLAR'S BOOK. 

BEING 

A SERIES OF SIMPLE RULES IN THE ART OF 

READING; 

SHOWING 
THE PROPER APPLICATION OF THE PRINCIPAL 

MODULATIONS OF THE VOICE 

TO THE ENUNCIATION OF EVERY SPECIES OF SENTENCE, 
WITH 

APPROPRIATE EXERCISES IN PROSE AND VERSE. 



By M: R. BARTLETT, 

AUTHOR OF *' THE Y. L. ASTRONOMY," &C., &C. 



" Rise, youth, exalt thyself and human nature." 

PHILADELPHIA: '\ yy-:00^ 

R. Wilson Desilveb, 4 South Fourth Street, 
1839. 






iK> 



4> 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 

M. R. Bartlett, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Eastern District of 

Pennsylvania. 



3 fe ^ 



Philadelpliia: 

T. K. «Sc P. G. Collins, Printers, 

No. 1 Lodge AlJey. 



TO THE PUBLIC. 



This little work is offered to the consideration of the 
Public, not because there-are no reading books for our 
schools, nor that the author has the vanity to suppose he is 
able to select better matter for our youth, than any who 
have gone before him; but because he holds that, next to 
choice matter, the manner of delivery claims consideration. 
The MANNER, therefore, of pronouncing every species of 
sentence in the English Language^ is the principal aim of 
the compilation. The production is an attempt to apply, 
by a few simple rules, the True Principles of Reading 
AND Speaking, as they are laid down in all treatises on 
Elocution, to a variety of Exercises adapted to juvenile 
capacity and youthful conception; for what is not clearly 
conceived, cannot be justly read. 

The nice modulations of the voice, and shades of tone, 
called into action by the excitement of the passions, are 
here principally omitted, because they are deemed too in- 
tricate for the comprehension of ordinary youth; and but 
little more than the absolute and leading modulations are 
explained and applied. These, however, will suffice to 
prepare the pupil for more extended works on the subject, 
and enable him to adapt these first principles to general 
Reading. The work is submitted to the Public, with the 
full conviction that the principles, as far as they go, are per- 



IV PREFACE. 

feclly correct; that they will introduce the scholar success- 
fully into the great field of Elocution, and that, i/ justly 
followed, they will gready improve the general style of 
Reading and Speaking throughout the country. 

THE AUTHOR. 
Philadelphia^ July ith, lSd9. 



INDEX TO THE RULES. 



PART FIRST. 



Introduction, 
Inflections of the voice, 
Circumflex, - 
Emphatic Stress, 
Monotone, 



CHAPTER I. 



Rule ] . Interrog^ative Sentence and Reply, • 
Illustrations, &c., - - . 

Rule 2. Direct question disjoined, 
Rule 3. Indirect question and reply, 

Illustrations, &c., ... 
Questions for the pupil to answer, - 

CHAPTER IL 

Rule 4. Parenthetic Sentence, 
Ruld 5. 



Exercise 

(4 
U 

a 


4( 

No. 1. 
2. 
3. 
4. 


differently pointed, 
Moss Rose, - 
Potted Sprats, 
Eliza and her Child, 
Spoiled Child, 

CHAPTER III. 



The Period and its Parts, 
Rule 6. The Simple Sentence, 
Rule 7. The Compound Sentence, 
Rule 8. The Direct Period, - 
Rule 9. The Loose Sentence, 
Rule 10. The Conditional Mernher, - 

Illustrations, &e., . - - 

Exercise No. 5. Our Father, 
6. The Brothers, 
" 7. Faithful Companion, 

" 8. Hope and Memorj^ 

" 9. Education, 

" 10. Woman's Privilege, 

CHAPTER IV. 

Rule 11. The Complex Sentence, 

Remark. Case Absolute, &c., 



Page 

9 

9 

10 

10 

11 



12 
14 
15 

16 
18 
20 



21 
22 
24 
25 
26 
27 



28 
29 
30 
31 
32 
34 
34 
36 
37 
38 
40 
42 
43 



44 
4G 



VI INDEX TO THE RULES. 

Page 

Remark. Sympathy, Compassion, &c., - - 47 

Rule 12. Surprise, Fear, Command, &c., - - - 48 

Rule 13. Complex Sentence of Particulars, &c., - - 49 

Illustrations, &c., - - - - 

Exercise No. 11. Social Intercourse, 

12. The Human Form, 

" 13. Tobacco, 

" 14. The Contrast, - 

" 15. The Mother and Babes, 

" 16. Dying Infant, - 

" 17. The Cuckoo, - 

" 18. Ode to Peace, - 



CHAPTER V. 



51 
53 
54 
56 
57 
58 
60 
60 
61 



Rule 14. Affirmation and Negation, - - - - 62 

Remark on the Circumflex, - - - 64 

Illustrations, &c., ----- 65 

Exercise No. 19. Letter Writing, - - - 66 

" 20. True Politeness, - - 68 

" 21. Fashionable Etiquette, - - 70 

« 22. The Mountain Stream, - - 72 

" 23. Affectation Denounced, - - 73 

" 24. Americans and English Contrasted, 74 

CHAPTER VI. 

Emphasis, Absolute Stress, - - - - 76 

Rule 15. Mode of Applying Emphasis, &c., - - - 76 

Rule 16. Relative Stress, - - - . - - 80 

Double Stress, - - - - - 80 

Rule 17. Monotone, its application, &c., - - - 81 

Illustrations, <fec., ----- 82 

Exercise No. 26. The Man of Might, - - 83 

" 27. Morning Air, &c., - - 85 

" 28. Domestic Circle, - - 86 

" 29. Indians of America, - - 87 

" 30. Blessings of Peace, - - 89 

" 31. Horrors of War, . - 90 

" 32. City of Herculaneum, - - 92 

" 33. Dialogue— The School Boys, - 93 

" 34. do. Battle of Lexington, 95 

« 35. do. Gesler and Tell, - 97 

CHAPTER VII. 

Remarks on Reading Poetry, - - - 99 

Rule 1. The Pause and Slide at the end of Lines, - - 99 

Observation — the Break of the Line, - - 101 

Rule 2. Penult cesura, slide and pause, - - - 102 

Exercise No. 36. The Daffodils, - - - 103 



INDEX TO THE RULES. 



Vll 



Exercise No. 37. Chime of St. Marks, 


Page 
104 




" 38. Our days pass as a tale, - 


106 




" 39. Address to Winter, 


107 




40. The Burial Place, 


107 




'• 41. A Parent's Reflections, - 


108 




42. The Seasons, 


109 




* 43. A Death Scene, - 


110 




♦ 44. The Death of a Tiger, - 


110 




PART SECOND. 






CHAPTER I. 




Exercise No. 1. Mary of the Valley, 


III 




* 2. Health and Beauty, 


114 




» 3. The Famous Upas, 


117 




* 4. The Cataract of Niagara, - 


119 




* 5. Menalcus and Justus, 


_ 122 




' 6. Summer will return, Slc, 


124 




* 7. The Four Seasons, 


126 




* 8. Awkwardness, - 


128 




' 9. The Prisoner, 


129 




' 10. Love of Immortality, 


131 




* 11. Precepts for Youth, 


133 




^ 12. The Objects of Study, - 


134 




* 13. Ways of Getting Knowledge, 


136 




* 14. Sabbath Day of Freedom, 


138 




» 15. General La Fayette, 


140 




* 16. Decay of the Indians, 


143 




17. Intemperate Husband, 


144 




» 18. Pleasures of Old Age, - 


145 




» 19. Reflections on Water, 


147 




* 20. The Visible Firmament, - 


148 




• 21. George Washington, 


149 




« 22. Union of the States, 


150 




» 23. Increase of Knowledge, - 


151 




^ 24. Objections to the Declaration of 






Independence, 


153 




» 25. Defence of the Declaration of 






Independence, 


154 




» 26. General Marion, of the South, 


156 




» 27. Victory on Lake Erie, - 


157 




» 28. Rolla's Address to the Peruvians, 


159 




* 29. Nature of True Eloquence, 


160 




^ 30. Dialogue— The Two Robbers, - 


161 




" 31. do. Flattery Reproved, - 


162 




' 32. do, Howard^ and Lester, - 


164 




« 33, do. The Price of Victory, - 


165 



viii 



INDEX TO THE RULES. 



Exercise No. 34. Dialogfue — Mr. Barlow and his Sons, 

" 35. Our Northern Workmen, 

" 36. The Political Demagogue, 

" 37. The American Statesman, 

" 38. South Carolina*s Merits, - 

" 39. Massachusetts needs no Praise, 

" 40. Great Men of the South, - 

" 41. Matches and Over-Matches, 

•* 42. Liberty and Union of the States, 

CHAPTER 11. 

«* 1. The American Sailor Boy, 

•• 2. The Pirate Ship, - 

" 3. The Mariner's Dream, - 

" 4. The Coral Grove, 

" 5. The Blue Sea, - 

" 6. The Evening, 

" 7. The Close of Day, 

" 8. The Common Lot, 

" 9. Human Life, 

•* 16. George Washington, 

•» IL Bunker Hill, 

»* 12. Holy Ground, 

** 13. The American Eagle, 

" 14. The Drunkard, - 

•» 15. The Tipler's Warning, - 

« 16. The Gift of Art, - 

" 17. The Soap Bubble, 

" 18. Americans and Britons, - 

" 19. The Soldier's Grave, 

" 20. The Blast of the Simoom, 

« 21. The Winds, 

" 22. The Snow Storm, 

" 23. The Beauty of the Deep, . 

»» 24. The Unknown Isles. 

" 25. The Juvenile Orator, 

" 26. Human Love, 

** 27. The Spirit of Beauty, 

" 28, The Beggar man, 

" 29. Youth and Age, - 

•» 30; The Shipwreck, - 

" 31. Picture of Life, - 

" 32. The Angler's Song, 

« 33. The Field Flower, 



TME 

JUVENILE ORATOR. 



PART FIRST. 

THE MODULATIONS OF THE VOICE. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The first step toward being an Oeator^ is to learn how 
to read. Reading, here, implies the oral and audible deli- 
very of written composition. To execute this with force, 
variety, and beauty, is one of human nature's highest im- 
provements, and requires careful and critical attention. It 
is no idle matter to be an orator; nor is it any very difficult 
matter. After learning to name and combine letters into 
syllables and words, and to articulate these, as arranged in 
sentences and paragraphs, fluently, the several Modulations 
OF THE Voice, must be clearly understood, and correctly ap- 
plied. A high degree of perfection in the management and 
use of these, evinces close observation and refined taste; 
and, to the youthful reader, it becomes at once a passport 
to the promise of great eminence and usefulness. 

The most obvious and important modulations of the voice, 
are the four following, viz: 

1. The Inflections of the voice. 

2. The Circumflex, or twist of the voice. 

3. The Emphatic stress, or strong utterance. 

4. The Monotone, or sameness of utterance. 

FIRST. 

The Inflections of the voice are of two kinds: the Bising 
and the Falling. They are those peculiar slides which the 
2 



10 INTRODUCTION. 

voice, in tbe act of reading aloud, or speaking audibly, in- 
tuitively takes, when making a pause, pronouncing antithetic 
terms, or expressing strong emphasis. 

The Rising slide is usually represented to the eye by this 
(') character, and the Falling, by this (^). These merely 
indicate the direction which the voice takes in making the 
respective slides. In several kinds of composition, these 
slides are very strongly marked, while in others they barely 
break the current of monotone. But a just and tasteful ap- 
plication of them, richly repays all the labor of becoming 
master of their proper use. 

SECOND. 

The Circmnfex, or twist of the voice, somewhat resem- 
bles a slight union of the two inflections, or a perceptible 
fall and rise of the voice at the same point. It may be 
conveniently represented by this (^) character. 

The circumflex is principally applied to antithetic stress, 
or the emphatic inflections; to ironical language, and to con- 
ditional and comparative terms, or members of sentences; to 
all of which, its proper use imparts significancy, force, and 
beauty, and adds sensibly to the ease and eflfect of delivery. 
It is a strong figure in the hands of an accomplished orator. 

THIRD. 

The Emphatic Stress, or what is usually called em- 
phasis, is the strong or forcible utterance of one or several 
words in a sentence, by which such word or words appear 
to be lifted up from the level of the other terms in connec- 
tion, and brought more distinctly before the mind; claiming 
special attention and importance. 

The proper seat of the emphatic stress, or the words en- 
titled to forcible utterance, is not always perfectly clear, but 
must be determined by the construction, or the sense of the 
sentence. A given sense, however, always demands a 
given, or fixed seat of stress; for the sense may be changed 
as often as the seat of emphasis is removed. The Emphatic 
Stress is, therefore, the great hinge upon which the sense of 
a sentence is made to turn; consequently, no one can read 
intelligibly what he does not clearly comprehend; hence, it 



INTRODUCTION. 1 1 

is generally more difficult to read, with just emphasis, the 
writings of another than what is penned by ourselves. 

But the proper seat of the emphatic stress is, in most 
cases, very easily distinguished, and may be regulated by 
definite rules, especially when the stress assumes a relative 
character. By almost universal consent, the word or words 
designed to be pronounced with force, are printed in italics, 
which unfortunately give the page a mutilated appearance. 
But, in elementary works, such appearance is less objection- 
able; therefore, italicised words will mark the emphatic stress 
in this little work. 

FOURTH. 

The Monotone^ or sameness in delivery, implies the read- 
ing or speaking of a number of successive words upon the 
same pitch or key of the voice, in the same tonation, and 
with equal and uniform movement. 

Its object is to impart to the sentiment expressed, great 
solemnity, dignity, and weight of character, and to impress 
it with due force upon the attention of an audience. The 
monotone is not of very frequent occurrence; nor indeed 
should it be, otherwise it would soon lose its effect; but, 
when it is properly introduced, it should be managed with 
skill and taste, and the effect will not soon be forgotten. If 
mangled and murdered, or sought unseasonably, the attempt 
forcibly excites a ludicrous emotion. 

Words and phrases, enlided to the high distinction of a 
monotone delivery, are variously marked, but here they are 
distinguished by hyphens, as though connected into one 
compound term, as ** His-father-ia-law's-son-in-lavv.'' 



CHAPTER I. 

THE INFLECTIONS OF THE VOICE APPLIED TO 
SENTENCES BY DEFINITE RULES. 

FIRST. 

The Interrogative Sentence and Answer j or Question and 
Reply, 

Rule 1. When the question is direct, and can be an- 
swered by yes or no, it closes with the rising slide of the 
voice; and the reply adopts the falling slide. 

Example 1. Did he answer you pettishly'? No^; he an- 
swered kindly\ 

Note 1. In pronouncing the word pettishly, the voice rises as it 
passes along the syllables until utterance ceases; something after the 
following: 

ly? 
fish- 
Did he answer yon pet- 

So, in the words no, and kindly, the voice falls until utterance ceases. 
Thus: 

ly? 
tish- 
Did he answer you pet- No; he answered kind- 

ly, 

2. Are they Hebrews'? So am I\ 

3. Can you chain the wind'? That is impossible\ 

4. Will he ride upon the clouds, and direct the storm'? 
Not at all^; no mere man has ever yet worked miracles\ 

Remark 1. It will be seen that these questions com- 
mence with the verbs: did, are, can, and will, and that they 
can be answered by either yes or no; it is therefore claimed 
that all questions beginning with a verb are direct; can be 
answered by yes or no, and are therefore entitled to the 
rising inflection; but some writers and readers say this is 
merely a general rule, and will admit of exceptions. 

Remark 2. The direct question adopts the rising slide, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 18 

whether the answer is actually expressed or merely implied, 
or when it calls for no answer. Thus: — 

5. Can'st thou bind the unicorn with a band in the fur- 
row'? Will he harrow the valley after thee'? Wilt thou 
trust him because he is strong'? Or wilt thou leave thy 
labor to him'? 

6. Knowest thou, O youth! the worth of time'? — the pre 
cious stuff of which thy life is made'? 

7. Can splendid robes, or beds of down', 
Or costly gems that deck the fair'; 
Can all the glories of a crown', 

Give health, or ease the brow of care'? 

Remark 3. In questions of the foregoing character, which 
are very earnest and pointed, the slide becomes quite in- 
tense, spirited, and commanding. 'J'hus: — 

8. Stand! the ground's your own, my braves! 
Will ye give it up to slaves'? 

Will ye look for greener graves'? 
Hope ye mercy still'? 

9. He that planted the ear, shall he not hear'? He that 
formed the eye, shall he not see'? He that chastiseth the 
heathen, shall not he correct'? He that teacheth man know- 
ledge, shall he not know'? 

10. My mother! when I learned that thou wast dead. 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed'? 
Hover'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son. 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun'? 

Remark 4. Generally speaking, the voice begins to run 
upwards or downwards, some distance from the close of the 
sentence or member to which the character is affixed; for 
the character only indicates with which slide the phrase or 
sentence is to close, and not that the voice begins to rise or 
fall always at the very point where the character is placed. 
This will appear evident from a careful examination €fcf 
the following sentence. 

Shall we crown the author of the public calamity", 
Or shall we destroy him^? 
Or thus: — 

2* 



14 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

i- 

1am- 
Shall we crown the author of the public ca- 

stroy 
Or shall we de- 

him? 

Note 2. These examples are marked without any regard to the 
demands of emphasis, and merely to illustrate the inflections. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Exercises in the Direct Question and Reply, 

1. Hast thou, my son, looked upon all these objects, and 
learned nothing'? Hast thou gathered no instruction'? Did 
not the brook teach thee'? Didst not thou hear it say it 
could not fee idle'? That it was in haste, and on its way to 
the river'? That the river was rolling to the ocean'? That 
the ocean was performing the duties assigned it by its 
Almighty Creator'? And that thou, also, hadst duties to 
perform in which thou couldst not loiter and be safe'? 

2. Did not tiie bright and rippling rivulet instruct thee'? 
Did it not say it found pleasure by the way side in watering 
the thirsty earth'? — in refreshing the grass that crowned its 
borders'? — in giving drink to the beautiful flowers that bow 
down to its very face as with a kiss of gratitude'? — and in 
admonishing thee to be no longer slothful, but active and 
diligent in filling up the measure of thy days, and in doing 
good in the world'? 

.3. Were not tiie little birds out on the v/ing'? Did they 
not cheer thee with their sweet melody'? Said they not unto 
thee — ''Be active as we are active'? — be innocent as we are 
innocent'? — and then be happy as we are happy'?" AVere 
thine eyes closed and thine ears deaf, and thy senses asleep 
to all the brook, the rivulet, and the birds preached and per- 
formed through thy whole ramble'? Dost thou dream of 
asking for another holiday'? 

4. Will the Lord cast ofl' forever'? and will he be favor- 
able no more'? Is his mercy clean gone forever'? Doth 



['the juvenile orator. 15 

his y>romise fail forever more'? Halh God forgotten to be 
gracious'? Hath he in anger shut up his tender mercies'? 

Rule 2. When the direct question is followed by the 
disjunctive particle — or — adding a iurther question, the first 
member takes the rising slide, and the second, xhQ falling. 

Example 1. Didst thou see the robin feeding her young', 
or was she hid from the sun in the shade of the hazle^? I 
saw her abroad gathering food for her young\ 

2. Did her example teach you to be gathering food for 
your mkid', or w^as her lesson lost upon you^? Alas! the 
lesson wasUost\ 

3. Is it lawful on the Sabbath day to do good', or to do 
evil^; to save life', or to destroy life^? And they answered 
him nothing\ 

4. Shall we crown the author of the public calamities', 
or shall we destroy him^? We wnll destroy him\ 

Note 3. It may be proper to observe here, that the — or — is not al- 
ways disjunctive, but often conjunctive. In order to disjoin, it must 
connect opposite sense, as in the above examples. 

But in cases where it joins opposing- terms, without changing the 
sense, it is conjunctive, and the above rule will not apply. Take a 
former example — 

Can splendid robes, or beds of down', 
Or costly gems that deck the fair^; 
Can all the glories of a crown^, 
Give health', or soothe the brow of care^? 

Here the sense is, none nor all of these give health, nor soothe care; 
hence the — or — is conjunctive. 

To give the sentiment a disjunctive character, the question would 
run thus: — 

Can all these secure health or soothe care^, or are they impotent'? 
Hence the sense must always determine the connecting character of 
the particle. 

5. Each for his hearth and household fire^; 
Father for child, and son for sire^; — 
Lover for maid belov'd^! — but why'— 
Is it the breeze effects mine eye'? 

Or dost thou come, ill-omen'd tear, 
A messenger of doubt or fear^? 



16 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Rule 3. Where the question cannot be answered by yes 
or no, it is said to be indirect, and adopts the falling slide 
of the voice; and the answer take^ the same slide. 

Example 1. Watchman, what o' the cloclO? Half past 
three\ and a star-light morning\ 

2. Whom seekest thou^? And she said, ''I seek my pa- 
rents\" 

3. Who can bring a clean thing outof an unclean^? Noone\ 

4. Where is boasting then^? It is excluded\ Boast not 
thy self \ 

5. The governor answered and said unto them, ** Whether 
of the twain will ye that 1 release unto you^?" They say 
unto him, " Barabbas\" Pilate said unto them, *' What 
shall I do then with Jesus, who is called Christ^?" They 
all say unto him, " Let him be crucifiedV' And the go- 
vernor said, " ^ hy^? what evil hath he done^?" But they 
cried out the more, saying, " Let him be crucified\" 

Remark 5. The above questions, it will be observed, 
commence with the terms — what, whom, who, where, 
whether, and why — which, in grammar, are called interro- 
gative pronouns and adverbs; and it will be seen, they all 
require the falling slide of the voice. From these premises, 
in connection with the first remark under the first rule, two 
general principles seem to be established, namely — 

L That all questions beginning with a verb are termed 
direct, and can be answered by yes or no; and that they 
close with the rising slide of the voice. And 

2. That the questions beginning with an interrogative pro- 
noun or adverb, are called indirect, and cannot be answered 
by yes or no; and that they close with the falling slide 
of the voice. Hence, in reading and speaking, all ques- 
tions may be placed under one General 

'■ Rule. All questions that can be answered by yes or no, 
close with the rising slide, and all others adopt ihe falling 
slide. One example will show the use of this rule. 

6. Observe the other now, in the first place, sallying forth 
on a sudden from his casde^; for what reason^? — in the even- 
ing^; what urged him^? — late^; to what purpose, especially 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 17 

at that season^? He calls at Pompey's palace^; with what 
view^? To see Pompey'? He knew he was at Alsium\ To 
see his house'? He had seen it a thousand times\ What 
then coukl be the reason of his loitering and shifting about^? 
He wanted to be upon the spot when Milo came np\ 

Remark 6. It may here be observed that as emphasis 
fixes the sense of language, so, of right, it controls all the other 
principles of reading. It sometimes requires that where, 
by the rules here laid down, the rising inflection obtains, the 
falling be applied; forming one exception to the first rule. 
For, let it be remembered, that strong emphasis always in- 
clines the voice downward. Thus: 

No occasion can offer for your charity, more worthy 
of a generous mind. Would you do a handsome thing, 
without a return'? do it for an infant insensible of the obli- 
gation\ Would you do it for the public goocM do it for 
one who will be an honest artiticer\ Would you do it for 
the sake of H€aven>l give it then for one who will be school- 
ed in the worship of Him for whose sake you give\ 

Remark 7. There is also another exception to the first 
rule, which may probably be referred to emphasis; it is this: 
when the direct question is repeated for any cause, the re- 
petition closes with the falling slide. 

Thus: Are you going to town to-3ay'? Now suppose the 
person addressed does not hear or understand the question 
distinctly, and inquires, by another question, what was said; 
thus. Did you speak to me'? Yes\- I said, are you going 
to town to-day^? 

Remark 8. The third rule is subject to a similar excep- 
tion; that is, v/hen the indirect question is repeated, it closes 
with the rising slide. 

Thus: What was the price of your knife^? A dollar\ 
Now suppose the questioner does not hear the answer 
distinctly, and asks again- — what was the price of your 
knife'. 

Note 4. Writers on elocution do not say, so far as I have been able 
to learn, on what principle tliese peculiarities in the interrogative sen- 
tence depends; but I have, with some hesitancy, referred them to the 
requisitions of emphasis; I may, however, be mistaken. 



18 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Exercises illustrating the foregoing Rules, 

1. Why are the young ladies of our rising republic, so 
generally content to live as mere drones in the domestic 
hive^? It is supposed to arise principally from a desire to ape 
the English nobility; from false notions of true gentility, or 
from the misplaced kindness of parents. Who can assure 
such drones, that they may not be driven, by a reverse of 
fortune, or the commands of stern necessity, to the health- 
ful exercise of daily labor, and learn, though late in life, and 
difficult in the extreme, the habits of industry, and the sweets 
of rest arising from temperate and useful employment^? 

2. It is night; and, weary with listless inaction, one of 
these fashionable drawing-room drones, retires to rest, and 
presses her pillow in quest of repose. Who hears her ask 
herself how she has passed the day^? Who has shared her 
kindness', or acknowledged her bounty^? Whose comfort 
she has promoted', or whose grief she has assua^ed^? What 
she has learned that she knew not before"^? What she has 
said in commendation of others^? What she has done to pro- 
mote the welfare of her neighbors^? What have been her 
thoughts, her designs, her washes, and the results of hours 
gone to make their report to the recording angel^? 

3. To which of the thousand female drones, who, in a 
bright and joyous morning, while the bee, emblem of in- 
dustry and provident forecast, is out on the wing gathering 
his sv/eets for approaching winter, roll in their gilded cha- 
riots through the spacious streets, as though '* all were made 
for one, not one for all," can any parent point, and say she 
nightly asks herself the above ennninerated questions, and 
finds in her bosom a pleasing response to iheni^? 

4. Nor let soft slumber close your eyes' 
Before you've recollected thrice — 
4 The train of actions through the day\ 

Where have my feet pursu'd the way^? 
What have I learn'd', where'er I've been'. 
From all I've heard', and all I've seen^f 
What know I more', that's worth the knowing^? 
What have I done', that's worth the doing^? 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 19 

What have I sought', that I should shun^? 

What duties have I left undone^? 

Or into what new follies run^? 

These self-inquiries are the road', 
That leads to virtue — and to God\ 

5. Sister, will you go to the dance with me on the village 
green'? — the dance round brother's May-pole'? Where is the 
wreath of fresh flowers for the May-queen's head^? Where are 
the buds of the sweet scented shrub, and the knot of blue 
violets^? Has the minstrel boy arrived with his pipe'? The 
village lasses, with their rosy cheeks and flowing tresses, 
are they all assembled', or is it yet too early^? Haste ye, — 
haste ye, — to the merry May-dance on the village green\ 

6. Who is the beautiful maiden that comes from the 
sunny south, dressed in a robe of lively green^? She has a 
garland of flowers about her waist, a wreath of roses adorn 
her head; and flowers spring up wherever she sets her feet. 
Can you tell me her name', or has she none^? what is her 
parentage^? when was the period of her birth^? who can 
answer me these questions'^? 

7. But should these credulous infidels, after all, be in the 
right, and this pretended revelation be a fable, from believ- 
ing it, what harm could result^? would it render princes 
more tyrannical, or subjects more ungovernable'? — the rich 
more insolent, or the poor more disorderly'? would it make 
worse husbands or wives', — parents or children', — masters 
or servants', friends or neighbors'? Or would it not make 
men more virtuous and happy in every situation^? 

8. Is it such a fast that I have chosen'? — a day for a man 
to aflliet his soul'? Is it to bow down his head like a bull- 
rush, and to spread under him sackcloth and ashes'? wilt 
thou call this a fast,' — an acceptable day of the Lord'? Or 
is not this the fast that I have chosen^? To loose the bonds 
of wickedness\ — to undo the heavy burden\ — to let the 
oppressed go free\ — and to break every yoke^? 

Can storied urn, or animated bust, 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath'? 
Can honor's voice provoke the silent dust, 
Or flatt'ry soothe the dull, cold ear of death'? 



20 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Brief Questions on the Introduction^ and First Chapter, 

What is the first step towards being an orator? What is 
reading? What is remarked of reading? What of being an 
orator? What must be understood and applied? Perfection in 
these, implies what? What are the modulations of the voice? 
How many and what are the inflections? How are the slides 
represented? What do these characters indicate? What is 
remarked of these slides? Describe the circumflex? When 
may it be properly applied? What is its use? 

What is remarked of the emphatic stress? What the efl^ect? 
Whatof the seat of emphasis? What of a given sense? What 
is remarked of the stress? What the consequence? What fol- 
lows? What of the stress in most cases? How is emphasis 
marked? The consequence? How marked here? 

What is monotone? What its object? What of its use? 
What if badly used? How is monotone marked? Of what 
does the first chapter treat? What kind of sentence first? 
What the first rule? What the example? Explain the note. 
What the first remark? The second remark? The seventh 
example? The third remark? Eighth example? The fourth 
remark? Explain by example. What of the note? Relate the 
second rule. Explain by examples. What of the note in 
relation? What the example? What the fifth example? 
Relate the third rule. Explain by examples. What remark 
follows? What is drawn from the premj^ses? What the 
general rule? Explain by the sixth example. W^hat is re- 
marked of emphasis? Explain by example. What of the 
other exception? Explain by example. What is remarked 
of the third rule? Explain by example. What of the rule 
that follows? 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 21 



CHAPTER. 11. 

THE INFLECTIONS OF THE VOICE APPLIED TO 
SENTENCES BY DEFINITE RULES. 

SECOND. 

The Parenthetic Sentence in all its forms of Pointing, as 
connected with the Inflections. 
This sentence is usually distinguished by two small curves 
bounding the extremes of the phrase or member which does 
not legitimately belong to the sentence, but is thrown in as a 
reflection, an explanation, or a collateral remark. Such phrase 
or member is not essential to the sense of the sentence in 
which it is embodied, and must therefore be read w^ith a 
depressed tone of the voice, and in a hurried movement, lest 
it divert the mind from the proper construction of the sen- 
tence. This figure of rhetoric, if but seldom employed, and 
correctly managed, adds both beauty and variety to delivery, 
especially when united with the inflections. 

Rule 4. When the curved lines are set off* by commas, 
or are introduced without points, the rising &Y\(\e of the voice 
obtains, just before each of these lines. 

Example 1. I would not enter on my list of friends', 
(though graced with polished manners and fine sense, yet 
wanting sensibility',) the man who needlessly sets foot upon 
a worm. 

2. The father of young Colburn, who had given the boy 
no other instruction than what was obtained at a small school 
in the remote parts of Vermont', (and at which neither writ- 
ing nor cyphering was taught',) was surprised to hear his 
son repeat the product of several numbers\ 

3. The boy was then tried as to the involution of other 
numbers of one figure each, all of which he immediately 
raised' (by actual multiplication') to the tenth power\ 

Note 5. In illustrating the rules of reading-, the pupil should be led 
by the teacher, who should go forward, read first, explain the rule, 
&c. then let the child follow; — and follow until he conquers every ob- 
stacle. 

3 



22 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

4. This wonderful faculty enabled the young prodigy 
to refer at once to a pure number', (a number incapable of 
division by any other number',) for the solution of which, 
there does not now exist among men any practical rule. 

5. Thus nature gives us' (let it check our pride') the 
virtue nearest to our vice allied\ 

6. Or why so long' (if long on earth can be') lent heaven 
a parent to the poor and me^? 

7. That man loves nobly' (I speak of friendship') who is 
not jealous when he has partners in love\ 

Rule. 5. When the curved lines are set off by higher 
pointing than the comma, such as the semicolon, the colon, 
or period, then the falling slide obtains just before each line. 

Example. 1. Then went the captain with the officers, 
and brought the apostle without violence^; (for they feared 
the people lest they should have been stoned^;) and when 
they had brought them, they set them before the council 

2. By means of the atmosphere, we enjoy the sun's lighi^; 
(this light is reflected to us from the aerial particles contained 
in the atmosphere"^;) without which, in every part of the 
heavens', (except that in which the sun might appear for 
the time being',) the stars and planets would appear^. 

3. The next consideration is, the means by wliich the 
different strata of the earth, have been elevated above the bed 
of the ocean\ (for he looks upon it as a fact that the highest 
points of our land, have been for ages at the bottom of the 
sea\) and concludes that the land on which we dwell, has 
been elevated from a lower station by the same great agent 
which has been employed to consolidate the strata\ 

4. And delivered just Lot, vexed with the filthy conver- 
sation of the wicked^: (For that righteous man, dwelling 
among them, in seeing and hearing their enormities, vexed 
his soul from day to day with their unhallowed deeds^:) 

5. And who, I pray, is to judge of their necessity^? 
Why, the King\ — (and with all due deference to his sacred 
majesty, he understands the real wants of his distant sub- 
jects as little as he does the language of the Choctaws\) 

Remark 9. The foregoing examples, show that the same 
pointing and slide of the voice are had at each extremity 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 23 

of the parenthetic clause; and this will hold good in all cases 
except when that clause closes with an interrogation point, 
or an exclamation point. 

The proper slide of the voice at the former point, has 
been determined under the head of interrogative sentences; 
the latter point may be referred, with respect to the inflec- 
tions, to the following general distinction. 

When the exclamation point excites the emotion of sur- 
prise, wonder, fear, or distress, or deep sorrow, it adopts 
the falling slide; but the tender, pathetic, and pity-moving 
emotion, takes the rising slide. 

6. While they wish to please', (and why should they not 
wish ii^?) they disdain to practise dishonest means\ 

7. The most happy', (strange to say'!) convince me most 
of human misery\ 

8. It was represented by an allegory', (O, how unequal'!) 
which was borrowed from the pagan religion\ 

9. Whither shall I turn^? (wretch that I am'!) — to what 
place shall I betake myself^? Shall I go to the capitol'? alas'! 
it is overflowed with my brother's blood^! Or shall 1 go to 
my house^? there I behold my mother, plunged in misery, 
and weeping in despair^! 

10. Oh the dark days of vanity^! (Few, alas! are with- 
out them'!) When here, how tasteless^! and how ter- 
rible when gone^! Gone'! ihey ne'er go^ — when past, they 
haunt us still\ 

11. What wilt thou give, my boy^? — Fearinor a lie, 
I sobbed out truth most sadly\ Edgar Mi^; 
Pardon'd my folly^; (for he lovM my tears\) 
Then gave what sooth'd the poor man's n)isery\ 

Remark 10. Some writers are opposed to the use of the 
curved lines, believing they disfigure the page^ and these 
employ commas only, leaving the sense to dictate to the 
reader the changes both in tone and movement. Tiie same 
inflections, however, obtain, whether commas only, or the 
curved lines are used. 

12. If, amidst the frosts of winter, you behold a cliild 
poorly clad and chilled with the cold' — O how many such 
there are in our great cities'! — know ye your duty toward 
him'? Give a part of your last mite to administer to his wants. 



24 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

13. So I went forth a third time into the fields, and be- 
hold I met a beautiful flaxen-haired boy, who was weepings 
I spoke kindly to him', though I seldom notice bawling boys', 
and asked him why he wept. He replied, "My father 
went to the w^ar, fought in the great battle, and was slain; 
no more will he return to comfort his lonely son." Well 
might the beautiful boy weep. 

14. I have been of some use in my day and generation, 
said a book' — books, you know, talk very eloquently some 
times'— -and now I wish to preserve my good name. Tell 
me how this may be done; for I am drawing to the close 
of my brilliant career. 

15. Then', as we have often heard him', he says, " I 
have a richer farm at the West than any in New England^; 
it is a wonderful growing country. My house is larger 
than Doctor Perry's, or General Grout's'," the palaces of 
his native village', " but, dear me'! it wants the pleasant 
look of the old place." 

16. But when he spoke of the blessed issues of that pain- 
ful business — of the gentle Ruth and faithful Jacob', — these 
were the names by which he designated Harry and Emily', 
who had been trained under our roof in the t' nurture and 
admonition of the Lord," all hearts were touched. 

EXERCISES. 

Brief Paragraphs illustrating the foregoing Rules. 

EXERCISE I. 

The Moss Rose. 

1. The bright and beautiful angel, who attends upon Flo- 
ra's fair garden, and who', in the silence of the night', sprin- 
kles all her flowers with the dew of heaven, fell asleep one 
fair May-morning', (for angels doubtless sleep',) under the 
shadow of a budding and blooming rose bush, where he 
rested through the day. 

2. As the sun declined low in the distant West, and the 
shades of night began to rise in the East, he awoke from 
his slumbers, and arose from his lowly rose-bed. Having 
rubbed his eyes, and brushed his locks, he said', (addressing 
himself to the rose which had shaded him',) Loveliest of 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 25 

flowers'! I thank thee for thy cooling shade and thy sweet 
perfume. I am refreshed and ready for fresh employment. 

3. And now, most beautiful rose, in return for thy kind- 
ness to me, ask of me, if it please thee, what thou wilt have, 
and I will give it thee. And the rose, with a sweet modesty, 
and a shower of sweeter smiles and blushes, said to him, 
confer upon me, if thou wilt, some furifier aiiraciion — some 
new charm — and I will be content. 

4. I will, said tiie angel; I will increase thy beauty — I 
will add to thy loveliness fresh adornment. And, thereupon, 
this angel of the flowery world, kindly adorned the peerless 
flower with a dress of his simple moss. Henceforward, the 
moss rose', the most lovely of the whole kingdom of roses', 
went forth to the world, in her charming, modest, moss 
attire, winning her way to the love and favor of all the fair 
and virtuous. 

5. Daughters of our Republic — the roses of the western 
world', (and for you I pen this simple story',) learn from 
the example of the moss rose, in what true loveliness of 
adornment consists. Learn to avoid all gay and flaunting attire 
and gaudy finery. Learn also to apply the inflections of the 
voice, with taste and beauty, to all your lips utter. — Then 
my writing, and your reading, will not be as water spilled 
on the ground. 

EXERCISE II. 

The Potted Sprats. 

1. Before a very meagre, family dinner was over, the 
lady of the house placed upon the table a dish of potted 
sprats. While she dwelt', with many words', upon their 
excellence, she urged her guest' (a young and handsome, 
but very timid house-keeper',) to partake of her sprats. 
They were as good', to speak the truth', as much salt and 
little spice could make them; but they were greatly over- 
charged with garlick — an ingredient to which the handsome 
liouse-keeper had a mortal dislike. 

2. But', as was before observed', she was a young lady 
of great timidity, and her good breeding said to her, '* Per- 
severe this once in despite of your aversion to garlic, and 
swallow a few sprats." But her oflended palate said, "In- 

3* 



26 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

deed'! I cannot." "Are they not most excellent'?" (said 
the hostess'.) **Very^" (faultered out the half-strangled 
visitor\) (Here, reader, we record the Jirst lie\) "Did 
you ever eat any thing like them before'?" " Never\" And 
she probably wanted to add, I hope never to eat any thing 
like them again. 

3. " But you do not eat'," said the querulous hostess', 
"as though you liked them." "O yes, I do'," replied the 
young lady', " very much." (Here is the second lie\) 
" You probably forget', madam', that I had already eaten 
a very good dinner." (The third lie\) Alas! what a 
bundle of lies had timidity and good breeding' (falsely so 
called,') to answer for on account of the poor sprats^! 

4. On the following day, they left the town in a carriage 
for the country cottage of the obliging hostess. At some 
distance on the road, they alighted to refresh their horses; 
and here the pretty house-keeper expected they would take 
refreshments at the public inn, provided by other hands than 
those of her travelling companion. But the provident matron 
had provided for their banquet before she left her city home. 
She brought from the box of her carriage a stone jar, which, 
from the effluvia it sent forth', as the cover was removed', 
apprised the hungry house-keeper that there was still an- 
other pot of potted sprats. 

5. " Alas'!" the pretty traveller mentally exclaimed, 
" another pot of Sprats'? Pandora's box was a more trifle 
compared with these pots; — there', at the bottom', hope was 
said to be found; here, seems nothing but salt and garlick." 
In vain did the unhappy fair one declare', (lie the fourth',) 
that she had no appetite; and that', (lie the fifth',) she never 
ate in the morning. The hostess would take no denial; and 
the pretty house-keeper was compelled to swallow a sprat; but 
her stomach rebelled, and she threw it upon the carpet of 
the " Ladie's Parlour." 

EXERCISE III. 

Eliza and her Child, — near the Battle Ground of Linden. 

1. And one fair child, amid the loud alarm, 
Slept on her 'kerchief, cradl'd by her arm, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 27 

While round her brow, bright beams of horror dart, 
And love's vi^arm eddies circle round her heart, 

2. Near, and more near, the interpid beauty press'd 
Saw through the driving smoke, his daring crest, 
Heard the exulting shout, — " they run^! they run^!" 

*' Great God^l" (she cri'd',) " he's safe^! the battle's won." 

3. A ball now hisses through the airy tides', 
(Some fury speeds it, and some demon guides') 
Parts the fair locks, her peerless beauty deck. 
Wounds her fair ear, and sinks into her neck. 

4. The red stream gushing from her azure veins, 
Dies her white veil, her ivory bosom stains; 

'' Ah me'!" (she cri'd',) then sinking on the ground, 
Kiss'd her dear babe, regardless of the wound. 

Woman'' s Love. 

EXERCISE IV. 

The Spoiled Child, 

1. It is some >^here said, that a parent once asked a sage 
philosopher, what lesson was proper to teach a child first; 
and the sage replied, teach him — obedience. — This is said 
to have been one of the first lessons taught to the great and 
venerated George Washington, by his excellent mother. 
Let all mothers go and do likewise. 

2. What is the matter, my child^? Who has offended you^? 
Will you have anything'? What* can I do for you^? Come, 
my dear child, wipe off your tears; they will hurt your 
eyes. Will you tell me, my love, what has vexed you'? 
You know I will not allow any one to vex you. Come, 
my dear, tell me what ails you. 

3. This was the language of a very weak, but a very fond 
mother to her only daughter, a child of some six or eight 
years. AVhat was its natural effect^? Did it cure the girl's 
ill humor''? — win her over to good nature'? — prompt in her 
emotions of obedience'? Nothing of the kind\ Silent pout- 
ing was the only return she made for all her mother's kind 
expressions. 

4. Was it not very natural that the anxiety of the mother 



28 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

should rise still higher, as the sobs of the child increased'? 
Very natural; — and such in fact was the case. The servants 
were summoned into her presence, and inquiry made. — 
" Rosa'," said the mother to her seamstress', '* what has 
offended this poor chiki^?" ''Indeed, madam," replied Ro- 
sa, "I am not able tosay\" ** Nancy, have you vexed this 
injured darling'?" " 1 have not, madam\" The cook said 
** the little miss insisted on washing her hands in a kettle of 
boiling water, and I prevented her." 

5. The fond parent could not reasonably blame the pru- 
dence which had saved the child from scalding her hands; 
but she assured the servants that the poor child should always 
have her will and way, when they would not harm her, and 
that she would not have her vexed for the whole world. 

6. What effect had all this foolish indulgence, and mis- 
placed fondness upon the sulky, graceless child^? It undoubt- 
edly served to make her still more sulky and graceless\ The 
same hour, bent upon having '* her will and way," harm or 
no harm, and unable to judge of consequences, she run to the 
fatal kettle, while the cook was out of the room', plunged 
her hands to the wrists into the boiling water, and was an 
invalid for life. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE INFLECTIONS APPLIED TO SENTENCES BY 
DEFINITE RULES. 

THIRD. 

The Period and its Parts, 

1. A period is an assemblage of words which makes 
complete sense, or it embodies a distinct proposition; as, 
Man is born to die. The wages of sin is death. Time cures 
all our malidies. Hope keeps the heart whole. 

These are called simple sentences, because they combine 
but one subject and one verb. 

2. When two or more subjects are combined in the same 
period, whether expressed or merely implied, the sentence 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 29 

is termed compound, or it is composed of two or more sen- 
tences, united by one or more connective particles, which 
may also be expressed or implied. 

As, man is born to die, but his spirit survives the grave. 
The wages of sin is death, those of righteousness are 
eternal life; and all men are kindly invited to come to this 
hfe. 

3. Compound periods are of several kinds; each of which 
must be distinctly marked and understood, or it will be ex- 
tremely difficult to apply the slides of the voice to them 
with any degree of correctness even by the aid of the follow- 
ing rules. 

1. THE SIMPLE SENTENCE. 

Rule. 6. The simple sentence should always close with 
the grammatical point called the period, at which the fall- 
ing inflection generally obtains. 

Examples. Life is short\ Eternity is long\ No man 
is ever perfectly and permanently happy\ To do our duty 
is our highest and most binding obligation\ 

Remark 11. The subject of a verb has often many words 
connected with it, which make it long, and a point is gene- 
rally placed just before the verb. At this point, the rising 
slide obtains, and (he falling at the close, as above. 

Examples. The meek and lowly spirit of true piety', is 
undoubtedly the spirit of love\ 

The house of unbridled feasting', is too often made the 
avenue to the house of mourninor\ 

o 

The happiness of almost every man', depends principally 
upon the state of his own mind\ 

The flattering appearances of our own safety and success'^ 
are very often strangely deceitful. 

To maintain a steady serenity of mind, amidst all the shocks 
of the world', marks a great man^. 

To be wise in our own eyes', to be wise in the opinion 
of the world', and to be wise in the sight of our Creator', 
are three things so very diflferent as rarely to coincided 



30 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 



2. COMPOUND SENTENCE. 

Rule 7. The members of a compound sentence orenerally 
adopt the rising inflection, but close with the falling, as 
above. 

Example. 1. And when Joseph came home', they brought 
him the present which was in their hands', and bowed 
themselves before him to the earth\ 

2. But a certain Samaritan', as he journied, came where he 
was', and when he saw him', he had compassion on him', 
and went to him', and bound up his wounds', pouring in oil 
and wine', and sat him on his^horse', and brought him to the 
inn', and took care of him\ 

3. An-d we said unto my Lord', we have a father', an old 
man', and a child of his old age', a little one', and his brother 
is dead', and he alone is left of his mother', and his father 
loveth him\ 

4. Whoever shall hereafter draw a portrait of murder', if 
he will show it as it has been exhibited in an example', 
where such an example was last to have been looked for' in 
the very bosom of our New England society', let him not 
give it the grim visage of Moloch', — the brow knitted by 
revenge', — the face black with settled hate', and blood-shot 
eyes emitting livid fires of malice', but rather let him draw 
a decorous', smooth faoed', bloodless deamon\ 

5. What visions of glory would have broken upon his 
mind', could he have known that he had indeed discovered 
a new continent', equal to the whole of the old world in 
magnitude', and separated by two vast oceans from all the 
earth hitherto known to civilised man^I 

6. How would his magnanimous spirit have been con- 
soled', amidst the chills of age and cares of penury', the 
neglect of a fickle public, and the injustice of a treacherous 
king', could he have anticipated the splendid empires which 
were to spread over the beautiful world he had discovered', 
and the nations and tongues and languages which were to 
fill its lands with his renown', and to revere and bless his 
name to the latest posterityM 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 31 

3. THE DIRECT PERIOD. 

The Direct Period is a compound sentence, divided into 
two great, constructive members, the latter of which com- 
pletes the sense of the former. Thus; — 

As death leaves the sinner, so the judgment finds him. 

Rule 8. The rising slide closes the first great member, 
and the falling slide, the second. 

Example 1. A.s in the Direct Period, the rising inflection 
is applied to the first great division', so the sense and the 
ear demand the application of the falling inflection at the 
close of the second division^ 

2. Now every man who reasons', is a logician', though he 
may never have studied logic in books\ 

3. As the contemplation of the lives of good men', is a 
pleasing and profitable study', so biography should always 
make a portion of every man's reading^ 

4. Now as these men evidently mistake the love of virtue 
for the practice of it', they are consequently more the friends 
of goodness, than really good men\ 

5. He who is slow to anger is better than the mighty', 
and he who ruleth his spirit', than he who taketh a city\ 

Remark 12. Sometimes the great members of the Direct 
Period are composed of several minor members, each of 
which usually takes the rising slide of the voice. 

6. As the author of all good', whose eye prevades the 
spirits of all flesh', happily nourishes much virtue and piety 
in hearts unknown to us', so he often beholds the germ of 
repentance springing up in the very bosoms of those whom 
we regard as reprobates\ 

7. As sickness', one of the ills to which flesh is heir', is', 
sooner or later', the lot of all', so it were proper that all 
should seasonably learn how to treat the sick\ 

8. Now all are not happy who reach the distinctions in 
life towards which their towering spirits aspire', for every 
day's experience shows that', while they imagine their 
freshest roses bloom', they are gathering nothing but briers 
which wound the flesh\ 



32 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

4. THE LOOSE SENTENCES. 

The Loose Sentence is nothing more than a compound 
period, whether direct or otherwise, with one or more loose 
members appended, adding some collateral reflection, or 
further idea. Thus : 

As death leaves the sinner, so the judgment finds him; 
there is no repentance in the grave. 

Rule 9. Sentences to which loose members are appended, 
are read according to rules regulating the application of the 
inflections; but every additional loose member adopts the 
falling slide. 

Example 1. As in my former lecture', I endeavored to 
extinguish the passions of arrogance and pride', so in this', 
I shall attempt to recommend meekness and humility^; with 
what success', must depend on yourselves\ 

2. Persons of good taste', expect to be pleased at the 
same time they are informed^; and they think the best sense', 
deserves the best language^; — but their chief regard is to 
perspicuity\ 

3. Nothing is more becoming in the eyes of man', or 
dignified in human nature', than a strong and steady pie'ty^; 
but bigotry seems the utter weakness of man^; it exposes 
the professor to the scorn of the infidel\ 

4. As you advance', in habits of thinking', and in maturity 
of judgment', you will be able to examine for yourself the 
evidences of the Christian Religion^ and you will undoubt- 
edly feel a full conviction of its divine origin^; no one has 
ever made the trial and been disappointed\ 

5. And now', inasmuch as you will find in the bible, all 
moral truths necessary to be believed', and all precepts for 
the regulation of your conduct in life', you will find, at the 
same time", all proper directions for the discharge of every 
duty^; then make this book the rule of all your actions; — 
the companion of all your prayers and meditations^; — it will 
prove your best friend through all your pilgrimage\ 

6. Most men are strangely inclined to consider what they 
have lost', rather than what they possess^; they foolishly 
keep their eyes fixed upon the few who stand above them^; 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 33 

this draws their attention from the many who stand below 
them^; hence, they are always repining at their lot\ 

Remark 13. These loose members must not be confound- 
ed with the penultimate, or last member but one, of an 
ordinary sentence, for that member always adopts the rising 
slide of the voice, except when forbidden by strong empha- 
sis. 

7. The soul', considered abstractly from its passions', is 
of a remiss and sedentary nature^; — slow in its resolves', and 
languishing in its execution\ 

8. Some writer says, the world is a transcript of the ideas 
which are in the mind of the Creator"^; and the ideas which 
are in the minds of men', are a transcript of the world"^: — He 
might also have said that words are a transcript of the ideas 
in the minds of men', and writing a transcript of those 
words\ 

9. The minor longs to be of age\ — then to be a man of 
business^; — then to make up an estate"^; then to arrive at 
honors', and then to retired 

10. If they do not acquiesce in my judgment', which has 
never happened above once or twice', at??iosr, they appeal 
to his\ 

11. I must therefore desire the reader to remember', that', 
by the pleasures of the imagination', I mean those only which 
arise from sighf", and that I divide them into two kinds\ 

12. The person whom he chanced to meet', was', to ap- 
pearance, an old, decrepid, and blind man^; but upon follow- 
ing him from place to place', he at last discovered him to be 
Plutus^, the god of riches^, and that he had just left the 
house of a miser\ 



5. THE CONDITIONAL MEMBER. 

This member implies contingency in construction. It 
commences generally with some suppositive word or 
phrase, such as, if, since, when, though, yet, thus, what- 
ever, &:c., expressed or implied; as, — If you love me, keep 
my commandments. 
4 



34 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Rule 10. The suppositive member adopts the rising slide 
of the voice; but, as in other cases, the slide is subject to the 
control of strong emphasis. 

Example 1. For if ye forgive men their trespasses', your 
heavenly Father will also forgive you^; but if ye forgive not 
men their trespasses', neither will your Father forgive your 
trespasses\ 

2. Whatsoever thou resolvest to do', do it quickly^; — de- 
fer not till the evening what the morning may accomplish\ 

3. Since the days that are passed, are gone forever', and 
those that are to come, may not come to thee', it behoves thee 
to employ the present lime', without vainly regretting the 
loss of that which is past', or too much depending on that 
which is to come\ 

4. Whatever contributes to promote and strengthen the 
principles of virtue'; whatever tends to calm and regulate 
the passions', is confessedly a source of happiness\ 

5. If some of the branches be broken off, and thou', being 
a wild olive-tree', w^ert grafted in among them', and with 
them partakest of the root and fatness of the olive tree', boast 
not against the branches\ 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Brief Paragraphs illustrating the Inflections, "^ 

1. Respect ye the aged\ Cherish an increasing love for 
the truth\ Live in lively obedience to your parents\ Suffer 
no act of your life to dishonor their gray hairs\ 

Most of the pretended friendships of youth', are mere 
combinations in pleasure\ 

Fortunately', the good taste of the present age', has not 
suffered the English language to fall into neglecl\ 

A violent and ungovernable passion for unlimited praise', 
produces very ridiculous effects, even in women of good 
sense\ 

* Let it be remembered that these exercises, in connection with all 
the examples, are designed, not only as reading lessons, but as illus- 
trations of the rules to which they refer. If therefore the scholar 
would profit by reading- them, he must carefully and critically com- 
pare each with the rule illustrated, and thereby fix each principle in 
his mind, that all may be correctly applied when he reads books in 
which there is nothing but the naked language. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 35 

2. We had a hoary-headed guide in our service', who 
pointed to a wall', quite below the ripple of the wave', and 
said, '*Here stood the famous tower', to which the unfor- 
tunate Leander', by swimming the Hellespont', made his 
nightly visits to the beautiful Hero', until swallowed up by 
the an^ry waves\ 

3. Happy would the poor man think himself, if he could 
enter at once upon all the treasures of the rich^; and happy', 
for a season', he probably might he\ but he would soon find 
his possessions lessen', and his cares increase\ 

4. Poverty usually tends to turn men's thoughts too in- 
tently toward supplying their present wants^; and riches', 
toward the best means of enjoying their superfluities^ — the 
middle station in life', therefore, is undx)ubtedly, the best 
suited to rational happiness', and true enjoy ment\ 

5. Every degree of guilt', incurred by yielding to tempta- 
tion', contributes to debase the mind^; it impairs the moral 
sensed it weakens the benevolence of hmn.m nature^; it 
blunts the best sympathies of the soul', and clouds the un- 
derstand in g\ 

6. Therefore', all things whatsoever ye would that men 
should do unto you', do ye even so to them^; — for this is the 
law' and the prophets\ 

7. Youth', you're mistaken if you think to find', 
In shades', a med'cine for the troubl'd mind'; 
There, haggard grief will haunt you with his woe^; 
Sigh in the breeze', and in the streamlet flow^; 
There, naked frenzy', laughing wild with pain', 
Bares the barb'd blade', or plunges in the main^; 
There, superstition broods o'er all her fears', 

And yells of demons, in the zephyr hears\ 

8. Though in a bare and rugged way', 
Through devious, lonely wilds', I stray', 

Thy bounty shall my pains beguile^ — 
The barren wilderness shall smile', 
(With sudden greens and herbage crown'd',) 

And streams shall murmur all around\ 

9. So when the faithful pencil has design'd'. 
Some bright idea of tlie master's mind'; 



36 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

When a new world leaps out at his command', 
And ready nature waits upon his hand'; 
When the ripe colors soften and unite', 
And sweetly melt into just shade and light'; 
When mellowing years their full perfection give', 
And each bold figure just begins to live', 
The treacherous colors', the fair art betray'. 
And all the bright creation', fades away\ 

10. Dear Chloe' , while the busy crowd', 

The vain', the wealthy', and the proud', 

In folly's maze advance'; 
Though singularity and pride', 
- Be call'd our choice', we'll step aside', 
Nor join the giddy dance\ 

Though fools spurn Hymen's gentle powers', 
We', who improve his golden hours', 

By sweet experience know'. 
That marriage', rightly understood', 
Gives to the tender and the good', 

A Paradise b6low\ 

Brief Exercises^ in which the Inflections refer to all 
the foregoing Rules and Remarks, Let the pupil point 
out each reference, and name the Rule, 

EXERCISE v. 

Our Father. 

1. A Jew', with a long, snowy beard,' which swept low 
upon his breast', once entered a Parsee temple in Asia', and 
beheld the sacred fire\ " What'!" said he to the priest', 
" do you worship the fire'?" " No''; we do not worship the 
fire\" said the priest^; '' but the fire is to us an emblem of 
the sun\ and his genial warmth\" "Then do you worship 
the sun'?" said the Jew', "as your god'? Know ye not that 
the bright and cheering sun is only a work of the still more 
bright and bountiful Creator'?" 

2. " To be sure I know ii\" said the priest^; "but the 
great mass of the untaught world', require some sensible 
sign^; without which', they form no proper idea of the greai 



/ THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 37 

Creator\ And is not the sun an image of the invisible and 
incomprehensible source of light'? — an image of that Being 
who preserves and blesses all things'?" 

3. The white bearded Isrealite', thereupon observed', '* Do 
your people then jusdy distinguish the type from the origi- 
nal'? They call the sun their god^; and', descending even 
from this to a still baser object', they kneel down before an 
earthly flame', (the work of their own hands',) and do hom- 
age\ You amuse your people with the outward show', but 
blind their inward eyes^; and while you hold forth to them 
this gross and earthly object', you withdraw from them the 
Heavenly light\" 

4. '* How, then'," said the Parsee priest', ** do you dis- 
tinguish the Supreme Creator^?" *' VYe'," answered the 
Jew', ** call him Jehovah Adonai^; — that is', the Lord who 
is', who was', and will bo\" The Parsee priest said', 
** your appellation is grand and sublime^; but it is also very 
awful\" 

5. Then a Christian', who had heard the discourse', drew 
near to them', and asked them', — '' Are these the emblems, 
and the names by which you distinguish your god'? To 
me they seem to shut out all idea of love\ We call our 
God — Father^; — Our Father\" The Parsee priest and the 
Jew look wistfully at each other', and then exclaimed': — 
'* Here is at once the image and the reality\ It is a name 
direct from the heart^l" They then unitedly raised their 
hands toward Heaven', and said': with reverence and love', 
'* Our FatherM" 

EXERCISE VI. 

The Brothers, — Cain and Mel. 

1. And Abel', (who was the first born of woman',) was a 
keeper of sheep^; but Cain was a tiller of the grounds 

And in process of time', it came to pass', that Cain brought 
of the fruit of the ground, an offering to the Lord\ 

And Abel also brought of the firstlings of his flock', and 
of the fat thereof\ And the Lord had respect to Abel and his 
offering', but to Cain and his offering', he had not respect\ 
And Cain was very wroth^; and his countenance fell\ 
4* 



38 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

2. And the Lord said unto Cain', " why art thou wroth^! 
— and why is thy countenance fallen^'? If thou doest well', 
shalt not thou be accepted'? and if thou doest not well', sin 
lieth at the door^: — A.nd to thee shall be his desire', and thou 
shall rule over him\" And Cain talked with his brother 
Abel\ And it came to pass', when they were in the field', 
that Cain rose up against his brother Abel', and slew hirn\ 

3. And the Lord said unto Cain', " Where is Abel thy 
brother'?" And he said', " I know not^: — am I my brother's 
keeper'?" And he said', " what hast thou done^? The 
voice of thy brother's blood', oryeth to me from the ground\" 

4. And now art thou cursed from the earth', which has 
opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood\ When 
thou tillest the ground', it shall not henceforth yield to thee 
its strength\ A fugitive and a vagabond', shalt thou be in 
the earth^' 

5. And Cain said unto the Lord', *' my punishment is 
greater than I can bear\ Behold thou hast this day', driven 
me from the face of the earth^; and from thy face shall I be 
hid\ And it shall come to pass', that every one who findeth 
me', shall slay me\" 

6. And the Lord said unto him', therefore', '* whoever 
slayeth Cain', vengeance shall be taken on him sevenfold^ 
And the Lord set a mark upon Cain', lest any finding him 
should slay him\ So Cain went out from the presence of 
the Lord\^ 

EXERCISE VII. 

The Faithful Coinpanion, 

I. Almost all young people are very fond of company\ A 
solitary room', but ill accords with their flow of spirits', 

* I seldom hear of the sentence or execution of a poor culprit, with- 
out thinking of this passafi^e. Here, the legislative and executive power 
were united in the hands of the judge; — the case was one of deep 
aggravation, nothing less than the wilful murder of the first born of the 
human family; a record for the eyes of all posterity. Did the judge seize 
the murderer and choke him to death? no; — he not only spared him to 
repent of his crime, but marked him, that others should spare him also. 
This certainly ought to be a serious lesson to the law maker and the 
judge, who affect to take the life of a fellow creature without blame. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 39 

and freshness of feeling\ For a lonely evening', they have 
seldom any relish\ They are most generally willing to 
bear the fatigue of a walk', the heat of a summer sun', or 
the cold of a winter storm', to meet and enjoy the chat of a 
pleasant companion\ 

2. Thousands of these do not reflect that it is possible to 
find such a companion without any fatigue, or the risk of expo- 
sure. To these it may be a matter of some suprise to learn 
that there is', in fact', a most pleasant companion always near 
their side\ — One who is more faithful than a mere associate'; 
— and who will stick closer than a brother\ 

3. WiU^it please the young reader to know who this com- 
panion is'? It may be of some service to you\ When once 
acquainted', you will find her a friend. And should you 
ever be separated from your present ordinary companions', — 
from your brothers and sisters', and from your kind parents', 
and should you have no neighbors at hand', then you will 
find her of the highest value to you\ 

4. Now shall I give you a description of her'? well, then^: 
— She is just like yourself^! Have you rosy health'? So 
has she\ Have you a kind and benevolent disposition'? 
So has she\ Is yours a soft-toned and sweetly winning 
speech'? Such too is hers\ Whenever you are happy', 
and wear a smiling face', she then is also happy and full of 
smiles\ But if you are shrouded in sorrow', and drowned 
in tears', then she too sorrows deeply', and weeps bitterly\ 
Your joy', makes her joy^: and your grief, is her griefs. 
Are you not then very like'? 

5. If it be your wish', she will say to you as Ruth said 
to her friend^: — '* Where thou goest', I will go^; where thou 
lodgest', I will lodge^; — thy people', shall be my people^; 
and thy God', shall be my God\ Where thou diest', I will 
die', and there will I be buried^; — the Lord do so to me', 
and more also', if aught but death part thee from me\" 

6. Though this kind companion', will not demand of 
you all your time and attention', yet she will be pleased 
to hold frequent intercourse^; and, moreover, there will be a 
small part of the time', (say half an hour just before you go 
to rest',) that she will want you wholly to herself\ To this 
appointment you must bo religiously punctual; for she will 



40 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

then commune with you of the hours of the closing day 
which have passed to the angel of record. 

7. At that lone interview', — the world shut out', — you 
will hear her " still, small voice'," like the soft breath of a 
passing zephyr', saluting your enraptured ear', and saying', 
*' did you rise early this morning'? Was your thank-offer- 
ing made to Him who guarded your pillow through the 
night'? have you marked the worth of the precious hours 
that have passed to those beyond the flood'? Have you 
been dutiful to your parents', — kind to your brothers and 
sisters', — and respectful to the aged'? Have you taught the 
ignorant', fed the hungry', and nourished the sick'?" And 
if to these kind inquiries', you make a happy reply', she 
will cover you with the mantle of content', and your repose 
will be sweet\ 

8. And now', my young reader', let me apprise you that 
this kind companion is your own hean\ And let me request 
that you make it your constant monitor^; trust it with all your 
wants^; all your wishes^; all your secrets\ It is no tattler^; 
no traitor^; but faithful to death\ You will find it a safe 
counsellor^; a prudent guide', and an abiding friend\ It 
will aid you in the race of virtue', and crown all your law- 
ful efforts with success\ 

EXERCISE VIII. 

Hope and Memory. 

1. Once there was a smiling little babe', with dimpled 
cheeks and golden curls', reposing in his polished cradle\ 
And there came a beautiful being', with bright tresses and 
clear blue eyes', and drawing near', stooped and kissed him\ 
Her name was hope\ By and by', the nurse refused the 
baby cake^; for which it cried\ And then hope kindly 
soothed him', and told him of a cake in store for the coming 
day\ Then his litde sister brought him a knot of flowers\ 
And at these he clapped his hands most joyfully\ Then 
hope appeared and promised him many fairer flowers', gather- 
ed by his own hand\ 

2. In time', the babe grew to be a lusty boy^; and as he 
was sitting and musing in the summer twilight', another 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 41 

bright being', with a sweet and serious face', came and seated 
herself by his side\ Her name was memory\ Then she 
turned and said to the boy', " Look behind thee', and tell 
me what thou seest\" And the boy answered', ** I see a 
short path bordered with many flowers\ There the butter- 
fly spreads its golden wings', and the sparrow sings among 
the shrubbery^. It seems to be the path which my feet have 
trod^; for at the distant end, stands my own little cradle\" 

3. *' What art thou holding in thy hand^?" asked memory\ 
And the boy answered', " a book which my mother gave 
me\" And memory said', with a gentle, winning voice', 
*' come sit by me', and I will teach thee how to draw honey 
from thy book', which', when thy hairs are gray', shall be 
sweet and wholesome to thee\ 

4. In subsequent times', the boy grew to be a young 
man\ And as he one evening retired to rest', hope and 
memory both came to his pillow\ Then hope sang him a 
merry song\ — it was as sweet as the song of the lark when 
she rises from her nest to carrol in the skies'^. And when 
she closed', she said', "young man', follow me', and thou 
shah always have music in thy heart as sweet and soothing 
as the lay I have just given thee." 

5. But memory said', "his music must be seasoned with 
the incense of the past"^; he must follow me also\ Hope', 
we need not contend which of us shall have him exclusively', 
for we must both have him^; and while he keeps virtue in his 
heart', we can be to him as twin sisters^; — even all the days 
ofhislife\" 

6. Then the younsf man embraced these bright and beau- 
tiful beings', and promised to entertain them both^; — and by 
both was he long and tenderly beloved\ And when he 
reached the stature and strength of a man', hope was by his 
side every morning', and nerved him for the labors and 
trials of the da)\ and at night', he supped at the table of 
memory', and knowledge, prosperity, and content, were their 
guests\ 



42 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE IX. 

Education. 
What constitutes a good Education? 

Mrs. L. H. Sigourney. 

1. What is a good education^? How very much we hear 
about ii^! Who will tell the world what it is^? Every child 
who enters school', undoubtedly expects to obtain it\ And 
it is undoubtedly very proper that every child should know 
something of what it consists\ Let us inquire\ 

2. It is to get lerisons well', and to excel in every study'? 
This is indeed a part', but not all\ Some scholars make 
great progress for a time', and give large hope^; — but after 
air, fall away and become indorent\ Others are distinguished 
while they go to school', but afterwards', they relinquish all 
improvemeni\ 

3. Does it consist in a knowlodge of books'? Yes^;— 
and something more\ It seems morally impossible to possess 
learning', and still be ignorant of other necessary things\ Yet 
there was once a lady who read many books', though she 
knew not when her dress was in a proper condition^; — nor 
could she always find her way home when she went abrofrd\ 

4. Is it to cultivate the intellect'? This is not enough\ 
It must also strengthen the moral principles', and regulate 
the affections\ It must fit the scholar for the duties of 
life\ It must preserve in a just balance', and train to health- 
ful action', all the powers which the Creator has given him\ 

5. Look at the man who can neither read nor write^; 
and in our young Republic you may find hundreds'; can a 
much greater evil befall hiiii'? Who has more confused 
notions^? — more narrow conceptions^? — more fixed preju- 
dices^? — a more stubborn mind^? more errors of opinion^? — 
more groveling propensities^? Has he respect for truth'? 
Does he shrink at dishonesty'? Is he a kind parent'? — a 
good citizen'? — a useful man'? — Or is he not the very op- 
posite of all these^? 

6. A 2:ood education is only another name for happiness^; 
and shall we grudge any time or toil to learn how to be 
happy'? It is a science upon which the young may very 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 43 

properly enter', but of which even the aged should never be 
weary\ If we attain to much knowledge', and the fame of 
great learning', and yet f^iil in that which makes the heart 
good', and the life useful and happy', our learning will be 
as the " sounding brass and the tinkling symbal\" 

7. The different parts of a good Education', may be re- 
garded as the alphabet of human happiness^; — and from this 
alphabet, is formed a language for the Ii[)sof angels\- — For 
that is but a lame education which stops short of a higher 
world\ 

8. And now do you ask me when a good Education is 
finished'? Shall we have it when we are done going to 
school', or when we are grown to be men and women'? 
Let me inform you', that the whole of life is a schooh 
learning ends only with the end of existence\ He alone 
who bids the pulses cease', — the heart lie still and cold', is 
able to say', — ** It is finished\" 

EXERCISE X. 

Woman's Privilege, 

1 . There was a time once, when the *' Temple of Science," 
was firmly barred against the foot of woman', and she was 
<leeraed a being without a soul\ But now the bar is bro- 
ken\ the interdict is removed\ Woman may now drink 
freely at the common fountain', 

" And bid the longing appetite'. 
The rich provision taste\" 

2. How will she receive this permission to enter the 
beautiful Temple^? How will she prize the blessing of 
having the doors thus freely thrown open to her^? Will she 
loiter at the threshold'? Will she amuse herself in the outer 
courts'? Will she gather those brief and gaudy flowers only 
which spring up where there is no deepness of soil'? Will 
she advance a few steps', — boast of her attainments', — 
twine the garland of vanity about her head', and still be 
satisfied with " shallow draughts'?" Or will she press to 
the inmost shrine of the sanctuary^? — seat herself, (with all 
her loveliness',) at the banquet of the few', whose '* candle 
goeth not out by night^?" 



44 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

3. To you', young Ladies of onr infant country', happily 
favored with every means of gaining knowledge', are these 
questions respectfully addressed', with a solicitude for your 
welfare that has never slumbered\ — O! may you never be 
driven to the painful lamentation of the sluggard\— " ray 
own vineyard have I not kept^!" 

4. Will you allow the experience of gray hairs', to counsel 
you in this matter'? Well, then^; — 

" A little learning is a dangerous thing\ 
Drink deep^; — or taste not the Pierian Spring\ 
There', shallow draughts', intoxicate the brain^; 
But drinking largely'^ sobers itagain\" - 

If, therefore, you resolve to drink', let it be no stinted 
draught\ But after all you will probably fail', unless you 
observe', — 

1. — To economise your time\ 2. — To preserve your 
health\ 3. — To sip at the purest springs\ — And, 4. — to per- 
severe unto the end\ 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE INFLECTIONS APPLIED TO SENTENCES BY 
DEFINITE RULES. 

FOURTH. 

The Complex Sentence. 

This kind of sentence is usually of considerable length, 
and of various forms. It frequently embodies a series of 
single or compound members; some transposed; some in 
their regular order; some in the form of questions; some 
like exclamations, and some of the parenthetic character. 
But so far as the Inflections are concerned, they are all 
capable of being reduced to rules. 

EuLE II. In a complex or periodic sentence, that member 
or phrase which leaves the sense incomplete, adopts the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 45; 

rising slide; while that which forms or completes the sense, 
takes the falling slide.* 

Example 1. But Utile boys and girls', weary with study', 
with labor', or with play', and hardy man, with iron frame', 
and giant limb', and busy plodding mind', worn slack by 
active use', lie down to rest', and press their couch', until 
returning day calls them forth afresh', new strung', to 
deeds whose bearing never have an end^. 

2. During my visits to this happy family', when I looked 
round upon the healthful faces of its growing members, and 
beheld their patient diligence', their moderate desires', their 
cheerful obedience', and saw their parents', wasting neither 
strength nor time, in the idle ceremonies of fashionable life', 
but kind, true-hearted, benevolent, and independent', — I 
said to myself, here, then, is the true order of nobility in our 
free republic^. 

3. Then I have often seen the daughters, ply *Mhe swift 
little needle','' while their bright eyes sparkled with hap- 
piness', and ilieir sweet voices', softly consulting about their 
plans of charity', were in kind and kindling accord', and all 
their efforts', like a band of loving sisters', were devoted to 
the sinijle purpose of making the poor cofnfortable\ 

4. When thoui^ht came and asked me what I had gained 
in knowledjje', I answered', I know where the first, fresh 
violets of spring grow\ and where the lily of the valley 
hides its broad, green sheath\ — and where the vine climbs 
to hang its purple clusters^, — and where the forest nuts 
ripen', when Autumn comes with its bright and sparkling 
frosts\ 

5. Far in a lovely, southern isle'. 

That basks in summer's changless smile', 

And knows not what it is to fear 
The chilling blasts of winter drear'; 

* This rule embraces nearly all the former rules that relate to the; 
compound and parenthetic sentence. It is very comprehensive and 
wiil require earetul consideration. But when once understood, and 
carried out in practice, it will be of great relief to the memory, and 
give the mind a broad insight into the character of sentences, and the 
force of language. 
5 



46 THE JUNENILE ORATOR. 

There', in a sweet and lowly dell', 
Where the rejoicing sunbeams fell'. 

Piercing their way through branching trees'. 
And green leaves fluttering in the breeze', 
Crown'd with the vine', so sweet' — so lone'; 

Rises the Blossom Spirit's throne\ 

6. When the parting bosom bleeds'. 
When our native land recedes'. 
While the wild and treacherous main'. 
Takes us on its wave again', 

Father'! view a sailor's wo^; — 
Guide US wheresoe'er we go\ 

7. When the lonely watch we keep'. 
Silent', on the mighty deep'; 
While the billowing surge's hoarse', 
Bear us darkly on our course'; 

Eye that never slumbers'! — shed' 
Holy influenee on our head\ 

8. When our patriot fathers met', 

In the dark and trying hour'. 
While the arm of Britain yet', 

Press'd us with its weight of pow'r'. 
Still they dar'd to tell the foe'. 

They were never made for slaves^; — 
Still they bade the nations know', 

They were free as ocean's waves\ 

Remark 13. The provisions of the 11th rule will apply 
to what are called, in grammar, the Case Absolute^ and the 
Infinitive Mood with its adjuncts, when it is made the 
subject of a verb. 

9. His father dying', and no heir being left except him- 
self, he succeeded to the estate\ 

10. The question having been fully discussed', and all 
objections completely refuted', the decision was unani- 
inous\ 

11. To be pure in heart' — lowly in spirit' — benevolent 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 47 

to the needy', and of a deep abiding piety', secures a large 
portion of human happiness\ 

12. To know our own hearts', to subdue our bad pas- 
sions', to be temperate in all things', to be meek under 
provocation', and patient in well doing', is a perfection to 
which few of us arrive\ 

13. To be resign'd when ills betide', 
Patient when favors are deni'd', 

And pleas'd with favors giv'n'; 
Dear Chloe', this is wisdora's part^; — 
'i'his is that incense of the heart'. 

Whose fragrance reaches heaven\ 

Remark 14. Sympathy, compassion, delicate affection, 
and grief, when not too violent, soften the soul, and awaken 
the tender emotion. This generally inclines the voice to 
the rising slide. 

14. One day', we see carried along', the coffin of the 
sQiiling infant' — the flower just nipped as it began to bloom 
in the parent's view', and the next day', we behold the 
young man', or young woman', of blooming form and pro- 
mising hopes', laid in an untimely grave\ 

15. Then we behold a disconsolate family', sitting in silent 
grief, thinking of the sad breach that is made in their little 
society', and with tears in their eyes', looking to the cham- 
ber that is now left vacant', and to every memorial that 
presents itself of their departed friend\ 

16. But when t go 
To my lone bed', and find no mother there', 
And weeping kneel to say the prayer she taught', 
Or when I read the book that she so loved', 

Or to her vacant seat at church draw near'. 
And think of her', a voice is in my heart'. 
Which bids me early seek my Father's love', 
And meet her in the skies\ 

17. When the last light of fading day'. 

Along the bosom of the west', 



48 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

In colors', softly mingl'd', lay', 
When night had darken'd all ihe rest'; 
When', softer than the fading light', 
And sweeter than the lay that rung'. 
Wild through the silence of the night'; 

When lonely Phi-lo-me'-la sung'. 
That Harp', its plaintive murmurs sigh'd', 

Along the dewy breeze of ev'n', 
So soft', so sweet', they swelFd and died', 

They seem'd the echo'd song of heav'n\ 

KuLE 12. Great surprise, deep distress, stern command, 
reprehension, denunciation, and the language of authority, 
always adopt Xh^ falling slide. 

Example 1. O, save meM HelpM MurderM Murder^! 
Help^! Help^! Save me^!, FireM Fire^! Ho^l MurderM, Jesus^! 
Master^! have Mercy on usM, O, have Mercy on us'^! 

2. Hence^! — homeM you idle dolts\ Get you home\ 
You blocks\ you stones\ you worse than senseless things'^! 
Home to your huts\ you grovelling brutesM 
Up\ comrades\ up^! — in Rokeby's halls', 
Ne'er be it said our courage falls\ 
, 3. Bew^are\ rash youth^! — a deadly vice is hanging round 
you^! — a fatal habit is fastening on you^! — a foe has spread 
a snare for your feetM — put on your armor\ stand fast\ 
watch and pray^! 

4. Wo unto him who sitteth at ease^! — who ploweth not 
by means of the cold^! — and who gathereth not because of 
the heat^! Want shall come upon himM — disease shall 
cover his fleshM — disgrace shall be his portionM 

5. And Paul said to Elymus', O full of subtlety, and all 
mischief^! Thou child of the Devil^ — thou enemy of all 
righteousness^! 

God of vengeance'! from above', 
While thine awful bolts are hurl'd', 
O remember thou art loveM 
Spare^! — O spareM a guilty world\ 

Stay thy flaming wrath awhile^; 

J.et thy bow of promise smile^! 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 49 

6. Spirit', leave thine house ofclay^; 
Lingering dust', resign thy breath"*; 
Spirit', cast thy chains away^; 
Dust', be thou dissolv'd in death\ 
Hark'! the judgment trumpet callsM 
'* Soul', rebuild thine house of clay^; 

Immortality thy walls', 

And Eternity thy day^! 

Rule 13. When the complex sentence is formed of 
particulars, which refer to the same subject, they all take 
the falling slide, except the member which comes before 
the verb, and the last member but one in the sentence which 
have the rising slide. This form of the periodic sentence 
must not be confounded with that whose members begin 
with a conditional phrase or member; — nor with that whose 
members are direct interrogatives; for in both these the 
rising slide obtains. 

Example 1. Nature seems to have laid out all her art in 
beautifying the human face\ — she has touched it with 
vermilion^; planted in it a double row of ivory^ made it 
the seat of smiles and blushes^; lighted and enlivened it 
with the brightness of the eyes\ hung it on each side with 
curious organs of sense^; given it airs and graces that can- 
not be described', and shaded it with a crown of hair which 
sets all its beauties in the most agreeable light\ 

2. A flowery field of hope', stretches far and wide 
before the young and ardent rnind^ — pleasure seems to put 
forth her blossoms on every sido^;^ — impelled by desire', 
they rush forward with headlong zeal^; — they are prompt 
to decide and choose^; — they are no ways inclined to hesi- 
tate or inquire^; — they are credulous', because untaught by 
experience^; — they are rash', because unsubdued by dis- 
appointments^; and they are fearless', because they know 
not dan^er^: — hence the ruin which too often befalls them\* 



* Many of these examples embody more difficult language than 
can be fully understood by ordinary youth of eight or ten years — but 
it was not easy to find appropriate passages in more easy and fami- 
sh 



50 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Not only on the Dial's face', 
This silent shade', from day to day% 
With slow', unseen', unceasing pace', 
Steals moments', months', and years away'; 
T3iit from the rock^; — The aged tree^; 
From proud Palmyra's mouM'ring walls^; 
From Ten'riffe towering o'er the sea'^; 
From every blade of grass it falls^: — 
For still', where'er a shadow sweeps'. 
The '* Scythe of Time" destroys^ — 
And man', at every footstep', weeps'. 
O'er evanescent j()ys\ 

4. ** My Lads'," said he', 'hiow understand^; 
These are the weeds that spoil owr land^; 
But the green blades you trample down'. 

Are wheaPl man's food', and^atiire's crown"^:— 
With art and pains the crop is sown', 
And thus your daily bread is grown'':— 
AlasM your judgment was not right^. 
Because you judged from outward sight\^* 

Eemark 15. When the members of a complex sentence 
are composed of similar or contrasted terms, they may gene- 
rally be separated into couplets or triplets; — then X\\q Jirst 
member of the couplet, and the second of the triplet, have 
the rising slide, and the other members, ihe falling. 

5. For I am persuaded that neither life', nor death\ nor 
angels\ nor principalities', norpowers\ nor things present', 
nor things to come\ nor height', nor depth\ nor any other 
creature', shall be able to separate me from the love of God', 
which is in Christ Jesus our Lord\ 

6. Whatever strikes the mind', and makes an impression 
upon it', brings with it some associate^: objects going be- 
fore', or following aftet\ its effect', or its cause^; either re- 
liar language. If the teacher however will take the trouble — a trouble 
which he is bound lo take, both by duty and good conscience — to lead 
the scholar along; — read each example first, and point out its appli- 
cation to the rule, the difficulty will be obviated, and the scholar will 
soon repay all the labor. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 51 

sembling it', or standing opposed to it^; distinguished by 
certain qualities', or surrounded by certain circumstances\ 
7. No situation is so remote', and no station in life so un- 
favorable', as to preclude access to the happiness of a future 
slate^; a road is opened, by the Divine Spirit, to the habita- 
tions of rest', from all the corners of the earth', and from all 
conditions of men^; — from the peopled city', and from the 
solitary desert^ — from the cottage of the poor', and from the 
palace of the king^; from the dwellings of ignorance and sim- 
plicity', and from places of science and refinemeni\ 

8. No\ Henry\ — no^ — 'tis slander-^ 
Whose e{\gQ is sharper than the sword^; 
Whose tongue out venoms all the worms 6{ Nile^; 
Whose breath rides posting on the winds', 

And doth belie all corners of the world^: — 
Kings\ queens', and siaies\ maidens', and matrons^ 
• — Nay', the secrets of the grave^! 

9. How often I think on the scenes of my childhood'! 
'I'he meadows and fields where the wild flowers grew^; 
The orchard\ the pond\ the glade\ and the woodland', 
And the sunny delights which my infancy knew\ 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Brief exerrAses illustrating the rules in the 4th Chapter. 

1. While we are young', we are taught the first rudi- 
ments of the sciences', that we may become wise and good\ 
In the outset', therefore', it is proper to learn what is right 
and just', and never be guilty of departing from it\ This 
will be a source of happiness', of which none of the misfor- 
tunes of life can rob us\ 

2. During the fall of a shower of rain from the clouds to 
the earth', the rays of the sun', from the opposite side of 
the heavens', fall upon the drops', which act as so many 
prisms', and reflect all the rays embodied in a white pencil 
of lighi^; these rays constitute the rainbow\ 

3. Now, before any thing was known of the science of 
optics', many supposed the rainbow was solid matter^; — 
formed probably of gold, topaz, garnet, and emerald^; — or 



52 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

any of the bright and beau tifnl stones which we call gems\ 
They then undoiibledly regarded the glorious arch as a greats 
wonder^ and they were probably much more delighted i 
with it then', than after the science of optics showed tliem 
its real substance\ 

4. Besides the culture of fruit trees', and of the fields', — ; 
the care of sheep and other domestic animals', and the sale i 
of the produce of their joint industry', there was a still more 
elegant occupation that was not neglected^ — this was the 
cultivation of flower gardens\ 

5. To dress the hyacinth and twine the narcissus', to di- ■ 
rect the shoots of the iris and water the violet', to prune the . 
flowering shrubs', the whole household of the roses', with ' 
all the tribes of the lily', and all the sweet-scented herbs', 
whose odors floated upon the balmy air', and to weave these 
into garlands and chaplets for the festivals, the temples and 
the altars', and for the garniture of tables and beds', were 
the work of the fingers of beautiful woman\ 

6. Go to the ant\ thou sluggard^; think of her ways', and 
be wise^; — she', having no guide, overseer, or ruler', pro- 
vides her meat in summer', and lays up her food in harvest\ ' 

How long w^ilt thou sleep\ thou sluggard^? — when wilt thou 
arise out of thy sleep^? Yet a little sleep', a little slumber', 
a little folding of the hands to sleeps; — So shall \hy poverty 
come upon thee like one who travelleth\ — and thy wants'^ as 
as an armed man\ 

7. The war', that for a space did fail', 
Now trebly thundering', swell'd the gale', 

And StanlyM was the cry^; — 
A light on Marmion's visage spread'. 

And fixed his glazing eye\ — 
With dying hand', above his head', 
He shook the fragment of his blade', 

And shouted — " VictoryM" 
ChargeM Chester\ — Charge'''! On^l Stanly\ on\ 

Were the last words of Marmion\ 

8. The lowly and devout Christian' believes in a God- 
head^; he constantly feels the presence of a Deity \ at times 
he seems to have actual sensations of him^: in this belief his 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 53 

experience concurs with his reason^; his perceptions orrow 
brii^hler through all his devotional exercises', and while 
even in this life', he seems to lose faith in conviction^ 

9. -In general', says the eloquent William Wirt', the man- 
ners of Patrick Henry', were those of the plain Virginia 
gentleman^; — they were kind' without affectaiion^; — warm 
without insincerity^ — polite' without pomp^; — he neither 
chilled by reserve', nor fatigued by loquacity \ — but always 
seemed to adapt himself, without effort', to the character of 
his company\* 

EXERCISES. 

Brief Exercises which, in the irijlections, apply to all the 
foregoing Rules: — See if there is no error in their ap- 
plication: — it is one of the easiest things in life to be 
mistaken, 

EXERCISE XI. 

Social Intercourse, 

1. Man is a social being\ He draws some of his greatest 
blessings and sweetest enjoyments from social intercourse 
with his fellow man.'^ So strong is his natural propensity 
to companionship', that rather than be alone', he attaches 
himself to brute animals\ Alexander Selkirk', (the Robin- 
son Cruso of fiction,') when cast upon the desolate island of 
Juan Fernandez', lived peacably with his goal\ The cele- 
brated Baron Trenk, also', when immured in a dungeon', 
companioned with a mouse\ 

2. But the sweets of social intercourse', like many of the 
other sweets of this world', are often needlessly dashed with 
an uncomfortable bitter.^ Vanity, envy, the love of dis- 
tinction', or the love of mischief, too often mingles its gaul', 
or cankers every social enjoy ment\ 

From the general disposition which prevails among men', 

* As a reading exercise, the scholar will find these examples a 
strange and disjointed medley, unless he carefully refers each of them 
to its appropriate rule. This precaution will show him the distinctive 
character of each, and the principle it is designed to enforce. It will 
also lead him without much labor, to mark the various forms in 
which words may be arranged in sentences. This will be of import- 
ance to him when he makes an attempt to write. 



54 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

even in the most improved societies', to spoil life's plea- 
sures', the warrant is drawn to exclaim', " Man verily is . 
conceived in sin', and sliapen in iniq\iity\" 

3. The most offensive of these foolish disturbers ofsocial j 
peace', is the cold hearted wretch whose poison is distilled 
through the specious guise of affected candor', salved over 
with the assumed virtue of having " the frankness to speak 
his mind\" Under this cover', he stands', (like the clown 
in the gutter',) and bespatters his neighbors', until their fair 
fame is made as dark as the heart of their vile defamer\ 

4. Did not the observation of each day', attest the truth 
of this crying evil', one would hardly believe that any 
man could find pleasure in thus rendering his own species 
odious\ What shall be the punishment of such a man^? 
Shall he be banished as a common pest'? No^; put a mark 
upon his forehead', and send him from the presence of the i 
social circle', until reflection cures his malady\ 

5. What should be the prime object of social intercourse^? j 
Doubtless the prime object should be to promote our own I 
happiness', and the happiness of those with whom we as- I 
sociate\ Can either the one or the other be done by exposing j 
our own or our neighbor's weakness'? Are the faults and 1 
follies of poor human nature', the only topics that can give \ 
interest and promote pleasure'? Then indeed it were better i 
that social intercourse cease altogether\ — and that each man j 
should shroud himself within the mantle of suspicion', and \ 
live a perpetual recluse\ ^ 

EXERCISE XII. 

The Human Form, 

1. Man truly is fearfully and wonderfully made\ In form', 
how beautiful^! — in speech', how eloquent^! — in reason', 
how sublimeM And yet', alas'! how frail he isM '' He cometh 
fortli as a flower', and is cut down^; — he fleeth also as a 
shadow', and continueth noi\" He is of the dust', and re- 
turns to the dusi\ Yet by proper care, his frame may be 
retained in health and activity for many years\ 

2. The proper foundation for a robust and healthy frame', 
and for just and manly proportions', must be laid', (if laid 



THE JUNVEILE ORATOR. 55 

at all',) in infancy and childhood\ A light dress', so adjusted 
as to give freedom of action to the functions of life', is the 
best adapted to free and equal growth^ for then the young 
fibres shoot easily into the form which nature drew\ the 
muscles of the limbs readily assume the fine swell which 
free exercise alone can imparl\ 

3. Thus left to its own physical energies', the chest and 
shoulders will gradually expand and gracefully sway upon 
the well poised waist^; the breast will rise in full and healthful 
expanse^; the organs of life will have ample room to play 
and discharge their appointed offices^; the whole frame will 
happily start forward into blooming youth', and in the end 
assume the full perfection of nature's perfect model\ 

4. Yet this fair frame', however perfect', is subject to 
disease, decay', and final dissolution^ But with a little care', 
it may be preserved in beauty and usefulness for more than 
a hundred years\ Shall I tell you how this may be done'? 
Commit no excess of any kind\ At stated times', and rather 
frequently', take light and easily digested food\ Use no 
strong or hot drink in any f()rm\ A farmer in New England', 
at the age of 134 years', said', while chopping wood at his 
door', that at no time of his life', had any drink stronger or 
warmer than milk ever passed his lips\ 

5. Keep all the passions tame and cool\ The feet well 
covered', and the bare head out of the morning air\ Sleep 
just long enough to restore exhausted energies', and not a 
moment longer^ — and that upon a clean matrass rather than 
a soft feather bed\ Shut out idleness both of body and 
mind\ watch critically over all your habits', and perserve a 
cheerful spirit\ Avoid tobacco in every form'; highly sea- 
soned food in every shap(^^; dress to meet the changes of 
the weather', and then you may send for the doctor and the 
undertaker at the same time\ 

6. But if to sound health and long life', you would add 
one luxury', and give to beauty its freshest glow', and to 
existence its highest zest', lave yourself from head to feet in 
cold water every morning^; dry your skin with a coarse 
towel', and rub it with a flesh brush for the space of half an 
hour. Now, if you will observe all the directions', fully and 



56 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

faithfully', when one hundred years shall have rolled away', 
they will leave you in a bright, green, old age\ 

EXERCISE XIII. 

Tobacco. 

1. The tobacco plant is one of the most deadly poisons 
known to man\ Its use among civilized people', dates back 
but about two hundred years^. It is of American origin^; 
and is said to have been first found among tiie Indians of 
the south\ At the present day', it is regarded by thousands', 
(and let me add, by a most surprising perversion of taste and 
terms') as one of the real necessaries of life\ This imagined 
necessary', like that of rum', to the use of which it is a 
powerful incentive', taints the breath', and pollutes every 
thing it touclies\ 

2. To one who has never submitted to the filthy practice 
of snufling, smoking, or chewing tliis poison weed', it seems 
altogether unaccountable that any being', claiming to be above 
the brute creation', should ever have thought of defiling his 
breath', and filling his lungs with any thing so beastly oflTen- 
sive^. The lady', claiming to be possessed of just discrimina- 
tion', of fine taste', and of delicate sentiments', consenting to 
endure', for any consideration less than life', the taint and 
filth of tobacco', not only forfeits that claim', but resigns for- 
ever all pretensions to decency\ 

3. But if tobacco is so foul and so fatal', why does it not 
destroy those who use ii^? The same question may also 
be asked with respect to the opium eater', and the rum 
drinker\ They begin with a very little^, and by small de- 
grees', become habituated to a great deal\ But let the 
young beginner' take at once what barely satisfies an old 
chewer one hour', and it would destroy him as eflTectually 
as a glass of Prussic acid\ 

4. Some lime since', an eloquent declaimer against the 
habit of using tobacco in any form', took a healthy looking 
boy', of some eight or ten years', laid him upon his back', 
bared his bosom', and placed upon his breast aleaf of cured 
tobacco', which had been dipped in tfie spirits of wine\ In 
ten minutes', the boy grew sensibly uneasy^; in twenty', he 
had violent spasms^; and the speaker said, that in twenty 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 67 

minutes more', should the leaf remain on his breast', he would 
be a corpse\ 

5. Now a passing word to the youthful lad who may 
chance to read this exercise\ My young friend', if you have 
thoughtlessly learned to chew tobacco', throw it away', and 
in its place chew wormwood\ If you have learned to smoke 
it', in lieu thereof, smoke Lucifer malches\ If you take it 
in the form of snuff', finely powdered Cayenne pepper will 
answer a better purpose\ But if you do not use it in any 
form', give thanks tliat you are blessed with common sense 
and common decency^; and pray devoutly that both of these 
may be continued to you\ 

6. And finally', a word to the youthful Miss who may 
peruse this account of tobacco\ My fair young lady', should 
you be spared to the world until you reach the period of 
womanhood', and should you then chance to be addressed by 
one who uses tobacco', let me advise you', all other things 
being agreeable', to accept of his addresses^: — but upon the 
condition only', tliat he cleanse himself of his filth', as ladies 
sometimes cleanse straw hats^; — and that', in lieu of tobacco', 
he use for the rest of life', — asafetida^ — it is less offensive', 
and is not a poison\ 

EXERCISE XIV. 

The Co-ntrast, 

1. Turn your eyes upon ancient Athens^ — the boast and 
pride of history\ — there you will behold on all sides', vast 
monuments of taste, genius, and elegance\ Look also at 
imperial Rome^ — I n)ean as she stood in all her greatness 
and glory\ — you see the majesty of the human intellect un- 
folded^ — you see her tem[)les', her palaces', and her monu- 
ment of wealth and power\ But do you see any hospitals 
for the sick'? — any asylums for the deaf and the dumb', the 
blind and the aged', the fatherless and the widow', or any 
for the outcast of the land'? The whole empire shows not 
one\ 

2. How then will those renowned cities of the olden 
world and olden times', compare with some of the modern 
towns of the New VVorhN Look at Boston\ New York\ 
Philadelphia\ and Baltimore^; look even at many of the 

6 



58 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

little villages in this new country^ In these you may see 
temples and monuments of art and taste^; but do you not 
see hospitals, infirmaries, asyhims, poor-houses, bettering- 
houses, refuge places, penitentiaries, quiet retreats, and snug 
harbors', open for the reception of every condition of suf- 
fering humanity'? 

3. What has caused this broad difference between those 
old cities and our young towns^? — between the people of 
the East', and the people of the West*^? — between ancient 
times', and modern times^^ The Athenians were a splendid 
people' — learned in laws, philosophy, and the sciences' — 
but they were a pagan people^; they worshipped a host of 
gods and goddesses', whose very names are too ridiculous 
to be recorded\ 

4. vThe Romans', in their primitive state', had no higher 
objects of veneration than the Athenians^ and besides this', 
they were learned only in the arts of war', and the means 
of human destruction\ And even when a pure religion 
struggled to the ascendency in the empire', it was soon cor- 
rupted to the most gross and licentious purposes\ Even 
down to the present period', the senseless rites and images 
mingled with it, dishonor the name of religion^ — they mock 
the sanctity of its professors', and rest — like an incubus — 
upon the spirits of millions\ 

5. The same religion in the New World', preserved in 
its pristine purity', and honored in its efficacy', has put a 
new face on all that belongs to life\ — It heals dissenlioub^; 
loves peace and good will to men^; beats the sword into 
pruning hooks\ spreads over the face of the world the 
works of benevolence^ rears monuments of charity^; de- 
lights in deeds of kindness', and constantly seeks the happi- 
ness of all.^ 

EXERCISE XV. 

The Mother and her Babes. 

1. A young and beautiful mother', was meekly kneeling 
at the couch of her twin babes', whose little arms were 
gently twined in a mutual embrace\ A sleep', soft as the 
moonlight which fell like a silvery veil through the lattice 
over their heads', rocked their senses in forgetfulness', and 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 69 

sealed their ruby lips\ The silken curls that clustered on 
their pillow', were slightly moved by their gentle breathing', 
and the smile which always beams from the pure depths of 
guileless spirits', still played about their dimpled cheeks^. 

2. The mother looked upon her sleeping cherubs', with 
conscious pride\ — Her dark eye deepened with the holy 
emotion of true maternal affeclion\ But anon there came 
over her a cold and shuddering fear^; — it was the apprehen- 
sion that these little buds of life', so fair, so innocent, so 
lovely', might be touched with decay', and, in all their 
brightness', go back to the dusi\ 

3. Under the influence of this deep feeling', the troubled 
parent lifted up her voice in solemn prayer to the Great 
Giver of Life', and earnesUy besought him to spare to her 
these tender blossoms of lier love^. But while her sweeUy 
savored accents rose upon the silent breath of heaven', a 
still deeper thought came over her soul\ Her pure spirit 
went out with her beloved babes', into the strange and be- 
wildering paths of life^. — There', as she beheld the mildew 
and the blight', which fall upon the fair and beautiful of the 
earth', a chill of horror shook her whole frame\ 

4. Then her prayer became more ferveni\ even to strong 
agony^; — She asked that He', who is the fountain of purity', 
would preserve her babes in their present purity and inno- 
cence^; — that neither folly nor vice', should taint their souls', 
or mar their loveliness^; — that neitlier crime nor shame 
should ever wound their peace', or blanch their cheeks\ 

5. Her prayer was heard^; — for', as the last accents of it 
died away in the weakness of her spent spirits', a pale and 
shadowy form stood near the sleeping infants', who said his 
name was death\ and that he had come for the beautiful 
babes\ 

I am commissioned', continued he', to bear them where 
the perils which you so justly deprecate', are forever un- 
known^; where sin, nor shame, nor sorrow', never reaches 
the rejoicing spirit\ It is only by yielding them to me', that 
you can expect to preserve them from danger and decay\ 

6. Then a wild and fearful conflict' — a struggle as of 
the soul, parting in convulsive agony' — shook the beautiful 
mother as with a fit of the ague\ But faith and love', which 



60 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

spring from a fountain more pure than that whence come 
the earthly passions, quieted her spirit', and gained her 
assent"^; — she then raised her babes', and cahnly resigned 
them to the hands of the pale spectre^ 

EXERCISE XVI. 
Addressed to a Dying Infsnt. — (Mrs. Sigourney.) 
!• Go to thy ?'es/\ my child^! 

Go to thy dreamless bed\ 
Go,' fair and undefil'd', 

V^'iih blessing on thy head\ 

2, Fresh roses in thy hand^; 

Buds on thy pillow laid^; 
O haste from this drear land', 
Where flowers so quickly fade\ 

3. Before thy heart shall learn', 

In guileful paths to stray^; 
Before \\\y feet shall turn', 

The dark and downward way\ 

4 Ere sin shall wound thy breast'. 

Or sorrow wake thy tear', 
Rise to thy home of rest'. 
In yon celestial sphere\ 

5. Because thine eye was f\\ir'. 

Thy smile so sweetly bright', 
Because thy cradle-care', 
Was such a aweet delight'; 

6. Shall love with weak embrace', 

Thine homewaid flight detain'? 
No^! Seek thy resting place'. 
Amidst th' angelic train\ 

Exercise xvii. 
Address to the Cuckoo, (Logan.) 
1. Hail^! beauteous stranger of the wood^! 
Attendant on the spring^! 
Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat', 
And woods thy welcome sing\ 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 61 

2. Soon as the daisy decks the green'! 

Thy mellow voice we hear^; — 
Hast thou a star to guide thy path', 
Or mark the rolling year'? 

3. Delightful visitantM with thee', 

1 hail the time of How'rs^ 
When heav'n is fill'd with music sweet', 
O^ birds among the bow'rs\ 

. 4. The school-boy', rambling in the woods'. 
To pluck the blossoms gay', 
Starts^] thy curious song to hear', 
And imitates thy lay\ 

5. Soon as the pea puts on the bloom'. 

Thou Jiy^ st the vocal vale^; 
An annual guest in other lands'. 
Another spring to hail\ 

6. Sweet bird\ thy bower is ever green^; 

Thy sky is ever clear\ 

Thou has no sorrow in thy song'. 

No winter in thy year\ 

7. O could /fly'! Td fly with thee\* 

We'd make', with social wing'. 
Our annual visit o'er the globe^; 
Companions of the spring\ 

Exercise xviii. 
An Ode to Peace. — (Cowper.) 

1. Come\ peace of mind\ delightful guest^I 
Return\ and make thy downy nest', 

Once more in this sad heart^: 
Nor riches 1', nor pow'r pursue', 
No old forbidden joys in view\ 

We therefore need not pari\ 

2. Where wilt thou dwell\ if not with me^? 
From avarice and ambition', yVeeV 

And jo/6a5Wre'6' fatal wiles^; 
6* 



62 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

For whom', alas'! dost thou prepace', 
The sweets that 1 was wont to shareV 
The banquet of thy snniles^? 

3. The great', the gay', shall they partake', 
The heav'n that thou alone canst make'; 

And wilt thou quit the stream' 
That murmurs through the dewy mead', 
The grove', and the sequester'd shade', 

To be a guest with them'? 

4. For thee I panted>^ thee I priz'^ct; 
For thee I gladly sacrific'd 

Whate'er I lov'd before^; 
And shall I see thee start away\ 
And helpless', hopeless', hear thee say' 

Farewell', we meet no more'?* 



CHAPTER V. 

THE EMPHATIC INFLECTIONS AND CIRCUMFLEX 
APPLIED BY DEFINITE RULES. 

Fifth. 
The Jlffirmation with the Opposing Negation. 

This kind of sentence is read very differently from any 
heretofore considered. The slides of the voice are gene- 
rally quite intense, and the emphatic stress is distinct and 
prominent. 

Rule 14. That member of this sentence which affirms, 
adopts xhe falling slide, and that which denies or disaffirms, 
has the rising: and it is not material wliich member occurs 
first in the sentence. 

* To the three last exercises I have marked a few words with 
such emphasis as the sense seemed to require, and without whicli the 
language would appear lifeless and unintelligible. 



TKE JUVENILE ORATOR. 63 

Example 1. Faith begets repentance'' not hardness of 
heart'. Or 

Faith does not beget hardness of heart', it begets repent- 
ance\ 

2. Therefore let us keep the feast', not with the old 
leaven', not with the leaven of malice', and wickedness', but 
with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth\ 

3. The sun makes a small revolution round the centre 
of gravitation of all the planetary bodies\ and is not, as many 
suppose, fixed in the very centre of the system'. 

4. This vast mass of heterogeneous matter', being totally 
unfit for the support of animal or vegetable life', was not 
instantly formed into a habitable globe', but was formed 
progressively^ 

5. Dr. Woodward observes', that the marine shells and 
fossils', which are found remote from the sea', are the 
remains of the animals which they resemble\ and not the 
immediate productions of the earth'. 

6. What though short thy date^? 

Virtue^, not rolling Sims', the mind matures'. 

How', you say', are we to accomplish it"*? How accom- 
plish M most assuredly not by fearing to attempt it'. 

Remark 16. The principle illustrated under the 14th 
rule, is said to be founded on the influence which emphatic 
force and antithetic sense always exert on the voice; for 
it obtains, not only where negation stands opposed to 
affirmation, but in comparison and spirited contrast. 

7. He is more a knave^ than /oo/'. 

A countenance more in sorroiv^ than in anger'. 

It is not so easy to hide our faults', as it is to mend 
them\ It were altogether more becoming in the scholar to 
strive to acquire knowledges than seek to show it'. 

8. Here, a regard to virtue', opposes insensibility to 
shame^ — purity' to pollution^ — integrity' to injustice^ — 
virtue', to villany^ — resolution', to rage^ — regularity', to 
riot\ 

9. The struggle lies between wealth' and wani^; — 
between the true dignity of reason', and its degeneracy'; — 



64 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

the force of the souF, and its phrenzy^; — between well 
grounded hope\ and wide spread despair^. 

Remark 17. When, in the negative member of this 
species of sentence, there is irony, scorn, sneer, or contempt 
implied, the Circumflex obtains, it is always associated 
with the rising slide of the voice, and gives to the senti- 
ment a force and significancy that can hardly be mistaken. 
. 10. The fault', dear Brutus', is not in stars that we are 
underlings', but in ourselves^. 

The fault', dear Brutus', that we are underlings', is in 
ourselves^, not in our staVs'.* 

11. When a Persian soldier vented his spleen by railing 
against Alexander the Great', his officer reproved him by 
saying'. Sir', you are paid to Jight against Alexander\ not 
to rail at him'. 

12. I said an elder soldier\ not a better'. Did I say a 
better'? If you dicO, I care not'. What'! durst not te'mpt 
him'? For your life you durst noi\ 

13. My boast is not that I educe my birth , 

From loins enthro'n'd', and rulers of the eaVth ; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise\ — 
The son of parents pass'd into the skies\ 

Remark 18. The Circumflex is often used in conditional 
or hypothetic sentences, even where there is neither negation 
nor comparison implied. 

13. If men see our faults', they will talk among theni' 
selves', though we refuse to let them talk to W6\ 

The baptism o^ John>^ — was it from Heaven-', or of men^? 
and they said', if we say from heaven', he will say, why 
then did ye not believe him^? 

14. And it came to pass, at noon', that Elijah mocked 
them', and said', cry aloud^! — for he is a GoM'; — eitlier he 
is talk'ing', or he is pursu'ing', or he is in a jour'ney', or 
peradventure he sleep'eth', and must be awaked\ 

15. And Jesus knew their thoughts', and said unto them', 

* The peculiar twist of the voice, or its fall and rise at the point in 
pronouncing the word Stars conveys a sense of the sneer or scorn 
which CdSdius ielt when Brutus imputed his low estate to his stars. 



tHE JUVENILE ORATOR. 65^ 

Every kingdom divided against its>If\ is brought to deso- 
lations and every city or house divided against itu'elf, shall 
not stand\ And if Satan> cast out Satan', he is divided 
against himseU^; how ihen shall his kingdom stand^? and if 
I by Beetzebiib cast out devils', by whom do your children 
cast them oui^? — therefore they shall be your judges\ 

-16. He seeks no safety in his po'sf 

Whate'er he may in honoris van^; 
And if the field of fa me be lost,' 
It won't be by an Irishman.^ 

Remark 19. The scholar will see by the foregoing re- 
marks on the character and use of the circumflex, that it 
refers, principally, to three different forms of sentiment or 
sentence, — the ironical, the comparative, and the conditional. 
Thus:— 

Ironically. They tell it's to be moderate'', while tKey\ 
tKey\ are to revel in profusion>. 

Comparatively. 'I'he beggar was more blind^f than 
lame\ They said he was more knave^ than fo'ol'. 

Conditionally. If thou hast performed an act of dis- 
interested virtue,' make it a secret in thine own bosom\ 

illustrations. 
Exercises illustrating the Rules in the Fifth Chapter, 

1. True charity is not a me'teor which now and then 
brightens the hopes of the wretched', but it is a luminary 
that dis[)enses cheerfulness through all the ranks of life^; — 
it blesses alike both the giver', and the receiver\ 

2. Cesar', who would not wait the conclusion of the con- 
sul's speech', generously replied', that he came into Italy', 
not to in'jure the liberties of Rome and her citizens', but 
to restore "the ni\ 

3. But this is not the time for a tribuual o( justice', but 
a time for showing mercy^; — not for accusation', but for 
kindness^; — not for trial', but for pardon^; — not for sentence 
and execution', but for clemency\ 

4. If any man sin', we have an advocate with the Father^ 
— Jesus Christ the righteous^ — and he is the propitiation 



66 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

for our sins\ — and not for owV^ only', but also for the sins 
of the whole worlds 

5. An elegant writer observes', that pleasure is to wo- 
men', what the sun is to the rose^; — if moderately enjo'yed^ 
it beautifies them^; if irnmo'derately\ it withers them\ 

6. I would much rather be myseffihe slave\ 

And wear the bonds^^ than fasten them on h'im'. 
We have no slaves at ho^me' — then why abroad>1 
Slaves cannot breathe in England' — if their lungs 
Inhale our air', that moment they are free^; — 
They touch our country', and their shackles fall\ 

7» It chanc'd three boys', in city bred,' 

. Who knew to eat\ not ra'ise their bread,' 
YoY pleasure' s sake', had rambled there', 
To see the fields', and snuff the air\ 

8. Eternal Hope'! when yonder sphere sublime', 
Peal'd her first note to sound the march of time', 
Thy joyous youth began^; — but not iofd'de,' 
When all the sister plants have decay 'd\ 

EXERCISES. 

Brief Exercises which refer to all the foregoing Rules* 

EXERCISE XIX. 

Remarks on Letter Writing, 

1. Probably every youth,' whether male or female', who 
may read these remarks', will find it convenient', at some 
period or other', to write a letter^ — They may, therefore, 
wish to know something about bringing forth such a pro- 
duction in proper style\ It is not a very grave matter to 
write an ordinary epistle', nor is it a matter which every 
one performs with intelligence and perspicuity\ There are 
indeed very few', either young' or o/t/\ compared with the 
great mass of manknd', who are able to write a letter of per- 
fect good sense', elegance of diction', and beauty of exeeu- 
tion\ 

2. No attempt will be here made to describe the matter 
that may be brought into a letter^; that must depend princi- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 67 

pally upon circumstances which exist at the moment of 
writing.^ The manner of the execution will be more par- 
ticularly consideretl. In this respect', letter writing', like 
almost every other useful accomplishment', has its fashion\ 
There is a form and a style to be observed', established by 
those who are masters of the subject', which every one', 
who has any pretensions to good breeding', will be ambitious 
to follovv\ 

H. The first important object that merits attention', is the 
choice of proper terms and phrases as the medium through 
which the sentiments are to be conveyed\ The next ob- 
ject is, to place the terms chosen.' in a clear, concise, and 
easy arrangement of sentences^; — not intensely labored', nor 
yet careless or liacknied^ — but in a familiar, uncramped 
flow', with proper respect to variely\ 

4. The date should be placed on the left of the page', and 
at the close of the letter', as the last particular to which 
the reader's attention is directed\ The register or margin 
upon which the lines commence', should be even and uni- 
form^; — and the lines perlecdy equi-distani^; — but the first 
.word of each paragraph should be smally indented^; — very 
much like a primed margin^. 

The writing or autograph should also be fair and legible', 
and as free from abbreviations and interlineations as possible^; 
and then the superscription or address', which should be 
placed along the middle of the folded letter', should be fully 
and distinctly spelled out\ 

5. When you can frank your letters', or send them free 
of postage', it is a mark of politeness to envelope them in 
blank paper of some fancy color\ Much taste and neatness 
can be displayed in folding a letter^; — manner', in this re- 
spect', stands for the whole character of the writer\ It must 
be remembered also that they can be so folded as to manifest 
great distaste\ rudeness\ and awkwardness^; and even in 
such a style as to warrant the refusal of a reply\ Now 
there are very few other considerations that will warrant any 
person to withhold an answer to a letter\ 

6. It has been a very general practice to use wafers in 
sealing letters^: — but now this is held not only vulgar', but 
unsafe^; — for the letter so sealed', is liable to be opened and 



68 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

closed again at pleasure\ A lady of some taste in these 
matters', and also of some Utile spirit of independence', was 
once handed a letter from her suitor fastened with a wafer', 
and she threw it into the^re unopened^; then', as an excuse 
for what she had done', she observed', *' the clown has sent 
me his saliva\" 

7. Those who are aware that these little niceties in 
etiquette, go to make the distinction between a mere clown 
and a man of taste and true politeness', are always careful to 
seal their letters with wax\ — and if practicable, stamp them 
with some appropriate device, or pretty motto\ 

It was once customary to affix the title of Esquire to 
the names of those gentlemen only who were officially en- 
titled to the rank^; but now it is given to almost every 
man\ — not as a matter of right', but by courtesy\ 

8. When you address a letter to a gentleman through 
the mail', on matters of mutual concern', the postages are 
mutually paid\ But if the business is wholly or principally 
your own', then you pay the postage both ways\ Should 
you however have occasion to address a lady through the 
mail', it is proper to pay the postage in all cases^; it is a 
respect to which ladies are justly entilled\ 

EXERCISE XX. 

True Politeness, 

1. This is a subject in which every one has some inte- 
rest', and to which the attention of the young should be early 
directed^ It is not like many other attainments that adorn 
life', — far-fetched and costly', but grows in every soil, and 
in every climated — among the snows of the North', and the 
sands of the Souths on the plains of Asia', and in the wil- 
derness of America\ He who cultivates it not', may have 
the consolation of reflecting that the fault, with all its conse- 
quences, lies at his own door\' 

2. True Politeness is jusdy ranked among the real Chris- 
tian graces^; for it is formed on Christian principles\ It is 
like benevolence^; — it is full of the milk of human kind- 
ness', and aims at the ease and comfort of the whole human 
familv\ It does not consist in a certain set of forms, bows, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 69 

and ceremonies', but is made np of those kindly attentions 
and nameless services', which make every one easy', — and 
which sweetens the whole of social intercourse^ He who 
would throw around himself, and around all with whom he 
meets', the pure sunshine of true politeness', must begin 
with the golden rule\ — he must do to others', as he would 
have others do to him\ This is the foundation not only of 
true politeness', but of all real excellence\ 

3. There is indeed another kind of politeness among 
some people', and some too who profess to have drawn 
their rules of action from the pure Christian fountain^ Its 
object is not to make others easy and happy', but to gratify 
pride and vanity\ It is known by its frequent efforts to buy 
golden opinions at the price of truth\ It loves goodness 
not for the blessing it confers', but for the praise it brings^ — 
not for the ease and comfort of others', but for the food it 
furnishes to the spirit of pride\ Self-love is the root of such 
benevolence', and therefore dishonors the name of polite- 
ness\ 

4. The truly polite man', may not indeed be familiar with 
all the forms of etiquette with which the idle and vainly 
fashionable surround themselves', any more than with the 
formalities observed in a burrow of otters^; — this however 
detracts nothing from his claim to true politeness\ He 
stands in aid of no such frivolities^ he employs no disguise^; 
his actions express his feelings^; — his language speaks the 
thoughts of his soul^; he exercises good will toward all^; 
he desires the happiness of all^; and he puts forth his best 
efforts to confer such happiness\ 

5. With the truly polite man', flattery is a coin too base 
for his use^; — -and detraction a crime too dark for his com- 
prehension\ The light of heaven brightens all he says', 
and blesses all be does\ The counterfeit of true politeness', 
is a mere artificial contrivance', planned by the vain, the 
weak, and the wicked', to impose upon the thoughtless and 
the unwary\ It cleaves to the little senseless forms and 
ceremonies of the idle and frivolous^; but it never drinks of 
the spirit or feeling of high souled benevolence^ All the 
mere apers of true politeness', are as the Pharisees of past 

7 



70 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

2Lges\ — they are wonderfully careful of the forms and cere- 
monies of the law', but know nothing of its spirit\ 

6. Elegant manners', prompted by true benevolence', 
carry with them the approbation of the heart^; but artificial 
forms are only the disguise of some dark design', or some 
human frailty\ The one is a polish that improves and 
dignities human nature^; — the other is a varnish wliich 
merely hides some deformity\ The one ornaments the 
whole man^; the other covers only his blemishes\ 'I'he one 
endears the possessor to the hearts of all the good and wise', 
and the other makes the ape of a favorite only to fools\ 

EXERCISE XXI. 

Mn Illustration of fashionable Etiquette, 

1. Some one writer relates a story of an interview which 
took place between two French gentlemen^ one was the 
Abbe Cosson,' — a professor of Belle Leltres, and a man 
of fine intellect and polite learning'; and the other was the 
Abbe De Lille^; — a man of true French polileness\ 

2. Professor Cosson had been at a dinner party', where 
the elite of the Court of St. Cloud surrounded the table', 
and subsequently feeling pleased with his own performance', 
quaintly boasted of his proficiency in the etiquette of the 
table\ De Lille', who had also been at the dinner', assured 
the professor he had made more than twenty blunders ; — 
that in fact he had done nothing in the true style of table 
poliieness\ 

3. First of air, (said the Abbe De Lille',) what did you 
do with your napkin^? What did I do with my napkin', 
answered the professor', — I opened it\ then spread it on 
my breast^ and then fastened it by one corner to the button 
hole of my coat\ And let me tell you, my dear sir, said 
De Lille', you were the only man at the table that did so\ 
A polite gentleman makes no display of his napkin', but 
lets it lie upon his knee^. 

Well', said De Lille, how did you eat your soup^? 
Why as every body else ate theirs\ replied the professor^; — 
I took my spoon in one hand', and my fork in the other\ 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 71 

What'? a fork'! — no body eats soup with 2^ fork'. And what 
after the soup^? asked De Lille\ I took a new egg^; said 
the proressoi\ What did you do with the shelP? What 
every one else did\ — I left it for the servant who waited, 
without breaking it^? Yes\ — said the professor^ But', 
my dear sir, does any man eat an egg without first break- 
ing the shell'? And what after the egg"^? I asked the Abbe 
Radorville to send me a portion of a very nice fowl\ 

A nice fowl'! unfortunate man^! — polite people ask for a 
pullei\ — a capon\ or a chicken\ The word fowl is never 
heard except in the hall of the ser'^'v ants'. 

But what did you drink^? — asked De Lille\ What other 
people drank^; replied the professor\ I called for Bor- 
deaux\ — and for Champaigne\ 

Now', my dear sir', returned De Lille', polite people call 
for B(^rdeaux wine\ and for Champaigne wine\ 

But how did you eat your bread^? Why I ate it as other 
folks ate theirs\ — I cut it with my knire\ 

O horribleM exclaimed De J^ille^; every polite man', breaks 
the breads he never cuts it'. 

You see', continued De Lille', all you said, and all you 
did at the dinner', were in direct violation of the established 
rules of polite etiquette\ 

Here the poor professor became alarme(l\ He felt for a few 
moments , as though he had been guilty of some base crime\ 
But after a little reflection', his reasoning powers began to 
operate', and he was relieved\ He began to turn the tables 
upon his accusing friend^ — all to whi(!h you have so boast- 
ingly referred', said he', as substitutes for what I did and 
said at the dinner', is the silly contrivance of idle puppies', 
who have learned nothing but these senseless forms\ 

Every great city swarms with these human vermin\ 
This kind of tinseled etiquette', — this libel upon true polite- 
ness', — is all the food with which they feed their minds\ 
They have no other knowledge\ 'J'heir highest ambition 
is l(» be distinguished for their dexterity in these little trifles\ 

All their real worth', either to tliemselves', or to the 
world in which they live', would not weigh a hair in the 
scale of general usefulness', or in the cause of benevolence^ 



72 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE XXII, 

The Mountain Stream. 

Note 6. This and a few following pieces are designed as exercises 
for the scholar in the application of the inflections, according to his 
understanding of the foregoing rules. The slides, &c, are to be made 
in pencil mark, and the rule repeated or entered upon the margin. — 
Much time and perplexity will be saved to the young scholar, if the 
teacher would read the piece with him, or with a class of twenty, and 
prompt the learner, — directing his steps and removing all difficulties 
from his path. One lesson thus faithfully conducted, will do more to 
advance the child in the true principles of reading, than one thousand 
where the choice of the lesson and the manner of reading it, are left 
solely to the unaided judgment of the pupil. Teachers, try it and 
see if I exaggerate. 

1. Early in the month of June, 1823, Philo Philebrown 
and his teacher, took a ramble in the fields. They crossed 
the stile, the pasture, and the meadow, and came to the 
Mountain Brook. It was a limpid stream, and made many 
crooks ami curves ; but then it was rapid, and its ripple fell 
on the ear like the notes of a music box. 

2. Whence runs this noisy stream over its bed of bright 
and beautiful pebbles and golden sands? asked Philo. It 
runs through the silent valley, watering the hedge and the 
copse, and enlivening the grass grown meadow ; said his 
teacher. On its sparkling bosom, you may observe mir- 
rored forth to the light of day, the beautiful blue of heaven 
and the green of tha waving grass. 

3. How prettily it dances along! said Philo; — it seems 
to hurry forward as though it were on an errand of special 
moment. What are the important uses of such a stream ? 
For I suppose a stream so lovely must do some good as it 
passes on. It does; replied the teacher. It moistens the earth, 
nourishes the roots of the shrubs and plants that grow upon 
its banks, and it sends up line exhalations which cool the 
air and refresh the flowers that droop in the rays of the sun. 

4. And are these its kind offices through all its long jour- 
ney? inquired Philo. Not all its journey, probably, for it 
may pass through baren wilds and sandy wastes where there 
are no shrubs, no plants, no flowers to receive its nourish- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 73 

ment, or drink its exhalations. Still, however, it cools the 
air, and retains much of its sparkling beauty. 

5. Philo reflected a few minutes, and then asked where 
the water which fed the brook came from. Look yonder; 
said the teacher; — do you see those ragged hills, just in the 
verge of the horizon? They are crowned with gray rocks, 
beneath which there are deep, dark caverns, and gaping fis- 
sures. In the former, cool and gurgling springs arise, and 
through tlie latter, they find their way out of the hills, form 
little rills, and feed this ceaseless flow of the brook. Now, 
as the source of these springs never fails, so the Uttle rills 
run, and so the brook runs. The rains of autumn, and the 
showers and thaws of spring may swell it, but it never runs 
dry. 

6. How wonderful! exclaimed Philo. But, pray sir, where 
does all this water finally lodge itself. 

It falls into the deep, blue ocean, replied the teacher. 
There it mingles its pure and sparkling wave, with the dark 
and briny fountain of all the streams of the earth. From 
that vast reservoir, it may again be exhaled, float in clouds 
upon the bosom of the air, fall in gentle showers, driving 
storms, or fleecy snows, sink into the earth, and form new 
springs to feed other brooks. — This is only a small part of 
nature's operations: the whole would fill many volumes. 

EXERCISE XXIII. 

Affectation Denounced, 

1. Affectation is one of those strange blots upon the 
excellencies of human nature, lor the indulgence of which, no 
one ever found, or ever will find any good reason. It is 
termed the wisdom of fools, and the folly of the wise. All 
agree that nature is the most lovely, and that its counterfeit 
is actual deformity. "Affectation," says Dr. Johnson '* is 
an artificial show, a false pretence, a deceitful appearance." 
Most infirm indeed must be that judgment, and perverted 
that taste, which chooses falsity to reality; which employs 
both labor and art, to dress in a suspicious garb, that basely 
belies and deforms the simplicity of human nature. 

2. AflTectation is very much like Joseph's celebrated coat. 
7* 



74 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

It is certainly composed of many colors or shades, and 
probably of many pieces. But if the young favourite's gar- 
ment fitted the form of its owner, no better than affectation 
sets* upon those who assume the garb, it is a wonder that 
the gaudy garment excited the envy of the patriarch's family. 
There is probably no doubt but that the weakness which 
prompted the gift of the party colored coat, is less repre- 
hensible than the folly of affectation. 

3. It almost alwajs happens, that he who puts on this low 
disguise, is the only person who is fairly deceived by it. 
He is weak enough to imagine that every man is as blind as 
himself; — that the flimsy web which clouds his vision, 
clouds also the vision of others. He does not dream that 
his labor is all lost; that the part he assumes is dishonest, 
and that he renders himself an object of pity or contempt 
to all who witness his folly. If all this was plain to him, 
his weakness would be cured. 

4. It is generally understood that affectation is less offen- 
sive in a woman than in a man. At the same time, all good 
men denounce it as the contrivance of narrow and disingen- 
uous minds; — too offensive, both in male and female, to 
merit, even for a moment, the approbation of a sound and 
well balanced intellect. Those who venture upon this foolish 
expedient, are generally supposed to be prompted by a desire 
to magnify themselves. But they ignorantly present the 
telescope wrong end foremost; and the consequence is, they 
appear, to all but themselves, as little contemptible pigmies. 

EXERCISE XXV. 

The Americans and the English Contrasted, 

1. We, say the English, are an old people. The Ameri- 
cans are a young people. We value ourselves on our an- 
cestry: — on what we have done; — they, on their freedom, 
and what they intend to do. We look to the past; they, to 
the future. They respect Old England because it was once 
the home of their forefathers; we respect America because 
it is the abiding place of Western Englishmen. As a people, 
they are but of yesterday. They are descended from those 
whose graves are yet green. We sprung from those whose 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 75 

burial places have been invaded by the Romans, the Saxons, 
the Danes, and the Normans, until they are blotted from 
memory. 

2. As a whole people, the Americans speak a better En- 
glish than we do. But there are men among us, who speak 
a purer English than any American, if we exce^u Mr. Pinck- 
ney, Mr. Wirt, and few other public speakers. 

I have heard an English lady complain of the vulgarity 
of the Americans for spitting in the fire. And I have heard 
an American lady express her disgust of an Englishman 
who spit in his handkerchief. 

3. In the form of his face, the texture of his mind, and 
in the cast of his temper and constitution, the Englishman 
is more of the Roman; — the Americans, more of the Greek. 
Of the two, the Englishman is the prouder, and the Ameri- 
can the vainer. The American is volatile, adventurous, 
talkative, and chivalrous; the Englishman is thoughtful, de- 
termined, brave, and a little sullen. An Englishman has 
more courage, and the American more spirit; — The former 
is better in defence, and the latter in attack. 

4. The American woman is more childish, more attractive,. 
more perishable; the English woman is of a healthier mind,, 
more dignified, and more durable. The former is a flower,, 
the latter, a plant; — the one sheds perfume, and the othet^' 
sustenance. An English woman is better suited for a friend^ 
a counsellor, and a companion; for the mother of many chil- 
dren, and the partnership of life; but the American woman^ 
is better filled for love; — she has more wit, more spirit, — 
more sentiment. Either would go to the scafl^old with the man 
of her choice; but the American lady would go in a delirium 
of joy. 

5. While the manners, — while the arts, 
Which mould a nation's soul, 

Still cling around our hearts, 

Between, let ocean roll, — 
Our joint communion breaking with the sun; 
Yet still from either beach, 
The voice of blood shall reach. 

More audibly than speech, 
We are one. 



76 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

CHAPTER VL 
EMPHASIS AND THE MONOTONE. 

Emphasis. 

So much has already been said of this principle of Elo- 
cution, that little more can be done here than merely dis- 
tinguish the different kinds of stress, and offer a few rules 
for placing the force correcdy. 

Emphasis may be distinguished into three varieties; — 
Absolute stress, antithetic or Relative stress, and the Double 
stress. 

First. 

The Absolute Stress. 
Absolute emphasis, is governed principally by emotion 
and does not suggest contrast or antithetic relation. It is 
generally the most intense and distinctive, and combines 
loudness of note, and duration of time. Now, as the seat 
of this force is governed wholly by the laws of sentiment, 
no directions but such as are of a very general character can 
be given to aid in fixing its true seat. Under lliis head, 
therefore, but one direction will be given. 

Rule 15. The word or words in a sentence, which are 
especially significant, or which express strong emotion, 
should be uttered with such force as will place their mean- 
ing in the best light. 

Example 1. The governor answered and said unto them', 
whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you^? 
They said', Barrabbas^, Pilate said unto them', what shall 
I do then with Jesus^, who is called Christ^? They all say 
unto him'. Let him be crucijied^. And the governor said', 
why\ what evil hath he done^? Hut they cried out the 
more', saying', Let him be cruciji€d\ 

Note 7. In referring^ this example to the above rule, the teacher, 
with the learner, should compare each clause, place the force on 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 77 

other words, and see if that will improve the reading. It is com- 
parison that ripens the judgment and strengthens the reasoning 
powers. 

2. Of all the causes that conspire to blind 
Man's erring judgment', and mislead the mind'. 
What the weak head with strongest bias rules', 
Is pride^f the never failing vice of fools^. 

Observation I. By repeating this example, and, in lieu 
of making the word pride emphatic, the stress is laid on 
some other word, or on several words, the learner will see 
whether the true sense is given. 

3. Of o// the causes that conspire to blind 
Man's en'mg judgment and mislead the mind, 
What the weak head with strongest bias rules, 
Is pride, the never failing *vice of fools. 

Observation 2. Now if this marking is not satisfactory, 
go back to the second example, and with a pencil, mark 
other words, and judge if the emphatic force is not properly 
placed in the first reading. 

It is true, indeed, that several of the other words are 
uttered with more force than the little limiting and connect- 
ing particles. But this is not always the case; sometimes 
these small particles are the very hinges on which the sense 
turns, and are therefore strongly emphatic. This will 
appear from the following example. 

4. If you did know to whom I gave the ring', 
If you did know/or whom I gave the ring', 
And would conceive for what I gave the ring', 
And how unwillingly I gave the ring'. 
When naught would be accepted but the ring', 
You would abcite the strength of your displeasure\ 

Observation 3. The application of the emphatic force 
seems to lift up the terms on which it falls, and present them 
distinctly to the mind. Thus: 



78 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

What the weak head with strongest bias rules, 

-a 
Is "<;, the never failing vice of fools. 

to 
If you did know whom 1 gave the ring, 

for 
Ifyou did know whom I gave the ring, 

what 
And would conceive for I gave the ring. 

5. He woke to hear his centries shriek', 

To arms''! they come''! the Greek"! the Greek! 

6. There are tears for his love\ joy for his fortune^ 
honor for his valor', and death for his anibitioii\ 

Observation 4. Absolute stress, when repeated, be- 
comes more intense and earnest. To show this distinction 
place the moderate force on the following Italicised words, 
the strong force on the small capitals, and the intence force 
on the large capitals. 

7. If we do not mean to abandon the noble struggle in 
Avhich we have been so long engaged', and which we have 
pledged ourselves never to abandon', until the glorious ob- 
ject of our contest shall be obtained', we must fight^! I 
repeat ii\ sir\ we must FIGHT"^! 

He woke to hear his centries shriek', 

To armn^! they come''! the GreekM the GREEKM 

8. What'! shear a wolf? Have you considered the 
difficulty', the danger^ of the attempt'? iVV, said the mad- 
man^; I have considered nothing but the right^; man has 
a right of dominion over the beasts of the forest', and there- 
fore I WILL shear the woif\ 

Observation 5. The moderately emphatic force, is not 
incompatible with the rising slide of the voice; especially 
in the emphatic inflection and the circumflex. But with 
the intense force, it is very difl^erent; that always inclines 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 79 

the voice downward. An emphatic word has about twice 
the time of one that is not emphatic, and the intense force 
has probably more. 

9. He did not atrike tiie tyrant from hatred'; nor from 
ambition^. His motives were admitted to be good\ but 
was not the action^ nevertheles^s, bad^? 

10. Hence''! home''! you idle creatures! get you home""! 
You block^^y you stoneii'! you worse tlian senseless 

thingsM 

Observation 6. When the emphatic stress interferes with 
the suspended or risinjj shde of the voice, the slide yields to 
the demand of fon^e if very strong, if not, slight emphasis 
accords with the rising slide. 

11. Though I have the gift o^ prophecy\ and understand 
all mysteries', and all knowledge'; and though I have all 

faith', so that I could remove mountains', and have not 
charity', I am nothing\ Or, 

Though I have the gift of prophecy\ and understand all 
MYSTERiEs\ and all knowledge^ and though I have all 
FAiTu\ so that I could remove mountains^ and iiave not 
char^'itij', I am nothing. 

12. The pains of getting', the fear of losing', and the 
inability of enjoying his wealth', have made the miser a 
mark of satire in all ages of the world\ 

Observation 7. If the strongly emphatic succession of 
force could be fairly represented to the eye, these terms 
would appear strangely out of line, thus: — 

'^ ^ 

13. I tell you', though % though all the ^ though 

% ^ ^ 

an angel from <^ should declare the truth of it', I would 

^ - 

not believe it\ 

Note 8. Tlie Absolute force, to be justly applied, requires the 
exercise of cure, nice discrimination and good judgment. In this 
application, men of learning and taste have been known to differ. 
Garrick, the great English player, in the Ninth Commandment. 



80 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

" Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor," — placed 
the stress on — shalt. — Mr. Johnson, his contemporary, and one of the 
best writers of that age, placed it on — not. Now the prohibition is not, \ 
Thou shalt not bear witness against thy neighbour, but thou shalt not I 
bear false witness: — and ^this probably is the proper seat of the em- 1 
phatic force. — If the position is not well taken, let the teacher and the 
learner prove to the contrary, I 



SECOND. 

Antithetic or Relative Force. 
This kind of force shows contrast, and rests upon oppos- 
ing terms, both of which may be expressed, or one may be 
simply implied. Antithetic stress is not so intense, gene- 
rally, as to turn the voice downward when the reading 
demands the rising slide. 

Rule 16. Words that express contrast or opposition in 
sense, are pronounced with comparatively strong force. 

Example 1. We are bound to take heed, not only to wliat 
we say\ but to what we do\' — for our example affects the 
conduct of hundreds\ 

2. Almost all of us think less of the injuries we inflict on 
others'^ than we do of those inflicted on ourselves^ this 
exemplifies the nature of selfishness\ 

3. Where is the man who does not take more pains to 
hide his faults', than he does to mend them"^? 

4. Cassius, in his quarrel, says to Brutus: — 

" I, who denied thee gold', will give my heari\ — 
Strike as thou didst at Cesar^.^^ 

Note 9. Here Cesar is emphatic, because the term impliedly 
stands opposed to Cassius, that is — Strike Cassius as thou didst strike 
Cesar, 

THIRD. 

The Double Stress. 

Sometimes the antithetic relation is expressed in pairs of 
contrasted terms, and the emphatic stress becomes double, 
though seldom very intense. This is called double em- 
phasis. 

Example 1. And why belioldest thou the mote that is hi 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 81 

thy brother'' s eye', but considerest not the beam that is in 
thine oivn eye^? 

0. If his principles are false', no apology of his\ can 
make them righi^; but if founded in iriith', no censure of 
ours', can make ihem wrongs. 

7. The wise man is hapyy when he gains his aim ap- 
plause, and ihe fool', when he gains the apphiuse o( others^. 

8. Though deep', yet clear\' though gentle', yet not dull^; 
Strong without rage', without o\'rJIoicing',fuIl^. 

LASTLY. 

The Monotone, or Sameness in Utterance, 

It has already been observed, that the Monotone is of but 
rare occurrence; and it foHows that whenever it is used, it 
sliould be done with taste and discrimination. The proper 
application of it, when a fit occasion occurs, may be learned 
from one general direction, with a few appropriate examples. 

Rule 17. All the terms that come under the Monotone, 
should be pronounced in a perfectly imiform tone, upon the 
same key or pitch of the voice, with a slow movement, and 
in a solemn, impressive manner. 

Example 1. Lucius', in the Roman Senate', while urging 
submission to Cesar', remarks': — 

" What men could do', is done already; heaven and earth 
will bear witness', if- Rome-must fall, — we are innocent. 

Note 9. At the close of the plirase — if Rome must fall — the voice 
neither rises nor falls; but proceeds until utterance ceases in a point 
resembling a dash running to a point. 

2. Cast away from you all your transgressions whereby 
you have transgressed', and make you a new heart and a 
new spini'';'—for-why-wiU-yoi('die, O house of Israeli 

3. Could we but climb where Moses stood', 

And view the landscape o'er'. 
Not Jordan's streams' — nor-deatW s-cold-jlood-^ 

Could fright us from the sliore\ 
8 



82 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

4. And now like blazing target red', 
He rushes to his burning bed^: 
Dies the wide wave with fiery light', 
I'hen sinks to rest' — and'all-is-night — . 

5. Man', starting from his couch' — shall-sleep-no-more — 
The day is broke', which never more shall closeM 
Above', around', beneath' — amazement — allM 
Terror and g\ory\ joined in their extremes^! 

Our God in grandeur', and-our-world-on-Jire — . 

6. If I were an American', as I am an Englishman^ 
while a foreign troop remained in my country', I-never- 
would-lay'down-my-arms — never — never — never — . 

Note 10. In the monotone delivery, the voice resembles the tolling 
of a bell or the slow striking of a clock at the still midnight v^atch. 
The words seem to be resolved into their separate syllables, and these 
almost into letters; while the voice, in a grave tone and with bold 
force, paces over them in the movement of the death march. 

Observation 8. Sometimes the monotone is confined to 
a single word — which, in the delivery, may be divided into 
syllables, but the accent is lost in the grave monotony. 

7. Bui yeS'ter-day, and England might have stood against 
the tvorld^; now', none-so-poor as to do her revererice\ 

8. At mid-night, when mankind are wrapp'd in sleep', 
And worldly fancy', feeds on golden dreams'. 

The solemn pomp shall burst upon the world\ 

9. Wave succeeding wave, they go', 
A various journey to the deep'. 
Like human life — to-end-less-sleep — . 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Afew Examples referring to the Rules under the Sixth 
Chapter, to which the scholar will apply the Inflections^ 
the Emphatic Force, and the Monotone, in pencil marks; 
and then read them for the approbation of the teacher, 

1. Gentlemen may cry peace! peace! — but there is no 
peace; — the war is actually begun! Our brethren are already 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 83 

in the field ! Why stand ye here idle? Is life so dear, or 
peace so sweet, as to be purchased with chains and slavery? 
Forbid it. Almighty God! I know not what course others 
may take, but, as for me, give me liberty, or give me death! 

2. Human happiness has no perfect security but free- 
dom;— freedom has none but virtue; — virtue none but know- 
ledge; — and none of these have any vigor, or any lasting 
hope, unless seasoned with the salt of Divine faith. 

Men of Massachusetts! Citizens of Boston! Descendants 
of the early pilgrims! consider your blessings; — consider 
your duties. 

3. By honor and dishonor; by evil report and good re- 
port; as deceivers, and yet true; as unknown, and yet well 
known; as dying, and behold we live; as chastened, but not 
killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet 
making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessed of 
all things. 

4. Better is a dinner of herbs, where love is, than a stalled 
ox, and hatred therewith. 

A wise son maketh a glad father, but a foolish son is the 
heaviness of his mother. 

5. High above the sacred band, 

There, in light, unfading set — 
Like twin stars of glory, stand 
Washington and La Fayette. 

6. Days, months, years, and ages, shall circle away, 

And still the vast ocean above thee shall roll; 
Earth loses thy pattern forever and aye; — 
Oh! sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul. 

EXERCISES. 

A few brief Exercises, referring to all the fore going Rules. 

EXERCISE XXVI. 

Henry Francis, or the man of might. 

" O what a piece of workmanship is man !" 
1. I looked', and beheld a man standing in the pride of 
life', and the glory of his strength\ He was built like the 
sturdy oak that strikes its roots deep in the earth', stretching 



84 THE JUVENILE ORATHR. 

its branches forth to the breeze', and like the tall cedar that 
lifls its head liigh above the trees of the foresl\ He felt 
no want"; he feared no dan^^er''; he knew no disease'^; and 
he wondered why any should groan with pain', or sigh with 
sorrow^. His mind' , also', was as vigorous as his body^. 
He was perplexed by no intricacy^; he was daunted by no 
obstacle''. Into hidden things he searched with ease', and 
what was doubtful', he rendered plain^. 

2. He went forth boldly upon the face of the mighty 
waters^; he looked upon the nations of the earth^; he 
measured the stars of the firmament', and called them by 
their names\ He gloried in the depth of his knowledge''; — 
in the powers of his mind^; — the greatness of his intellect^ 
and the excellence of jiis understanding'^:— ^wi^ he tried to 
search out even the hidden things of the AlmightyM And 
Avhen I looked upon him', I said with the poet', 

" O what a piece of loorhnanship is manM How noble 
in reason^! How various m faculties^! In form and moving', 
how ad7nirable\' In action', how like an angel^! in appre- 
hension'^ how like a God^!" 

3. But when I returned and beheld again', his look was 
no more lofty', nor was his siep proud^. His broken frame 
resembled some ruined tower\ His hairs were white and 
scattered', and his eyes gazed vacantly on the passers by\ 
The vigor of his intellect was wasted', and of all he had 
gained by study', nothing remained\ He feared when there 
was no danger', and wept when there was no sorro2v\ His 
wasting memory had grown treacherous^; it showed him 
broken images only', of all the glory which had departed\ 

5. His house to him', was as a strange land^; — and his 
kindred were accounted as enemies^. He thought himself 
strong and healthful', even while his feet tottered on the 
borders of the grave\ He said of his son', *' he is my 
brother^V^ and of his daughter', '* I know her not^:" — and 
he asked even for his own name^! 

And as I looked mournfully upon him', one who sup- 
ported his feeble frame', and ministered to his wants', said 
to me', — " Now let thine heart receive instruction''; — behold 
thine eyes have witnessed the weakness of a man of mighi\ 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 85 

EXERCISE XXVII. 

The Delights of the Morning Air^ and the Music of 
Summer, 

1. There is something in the air of a bright summer 
morning', which', while it defies the penetration of phi- 
losophy'^ adds -hrightness to the blood', freshness to life', 
and vigor to the soul\ All these stand for health'' — both 
of body and mind\ if, therefore, you would wear a rosy 
cheek', and a coral lip': — if you would have your heart 
dance like an April breeze', and your blood flow like an 
April brook', rise with the lark', and breakfast on the morn- 
ing air^ ; — fresh with the odor of opening flowers', and 
redolent with summer's fragrance\ 

2. It is not all mere poetry' to talk about the voices of 
spring', and the songs of summer'. The season of flowers', 
is the daytime of the year\ and all its thousand influences', 
are awake and audibly at work\ Even in the stillness of 
night', if you place your ear upon the ground', you will 
hear that faintest of all sounds' — the sweet- and soothing 
murmur of growing things\ This murmur is summer's 
voice"" — it is fairy music\ 

If you have been in the habit of rising early', you must 
have observed how the stillness of the hour', has seemed 
to be increased by the timid note of the first bird of song\ 
But', by and by', all the birds are up and out\ — and the deep 
holiness that surrounds you', sensibly declines\ 

3. But what a world of music', do the first rays of the 
glorious sun rest upon^! The deep toned lowing of the 
sluggish hind', blended with the sweet and fitful warble of a 
thousand happy creatures'- — and the stir of industry', rising 
on the ear like the under tones of a chosen choir' — and the 
voices of men', heard in the distance overall', like the voice 
of a singer among instruments', giving them language and 
meaning' — and all pouring like a mingled flood upon the 
buoyant spirits', fill the soul with rapture"". And then', if 
you have possessed a nicely attuned ear', and a delicate sense 
of change', you have observed', as the sun climbed up the 
azure vault of heaven', how all these sounds grew fainter'^ 
— softer"" — sweeter^, as the exhalations from the dew floated 

8* 



86 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

upward', and the vibrations loosened in the lighter almos- 
phere\ 

4. While beauty clothes the fertile vale', 
And bhizons on the spray', 
And fragrance breathes in every gale'. 

How sweet'l how siveet'\ the c/aj6?n of dayM 
O let my wandering heart confess'. 

With gratitude and love', 
Thy bounteous hand that deigns to bless', 

The garden\ field', and grove\ 
Inspir'd to praise', 1 then shall join', 

Glad nature^ s cheerful song^; 
And love and gratitude divine', 
Attune my joyous tongue\ 

EXERCISE XXVIII. 

The Domestic Circle, 

8. One of the siceetest', most delicate^ and most touching 
features in the picture of the domestic circle', is that in 
which the mother^s solicitude is discovered, in a thousand 
little nameless attentions to infant innocence^. No pen can 
picture', no pencil paint', the deep and soul-stirring look of 
her whose heaving bosom beats with tender love for the sin- 
less boon just lent her from the skies\ He who can behold 
such sweetness', hanging upon maternal beauty', and draw- 
ing its nourishment from the fountain of her6rm5^', without 
feeling that " of such is the kingdom of heaven',^^ is not a 
man', but a monster^, 

2. Heaven has planted in the mother'' s face', a look that 
allies her to things beyond this world' — to things which 
claim kindred with the skies^. The angelic smile', the 
tender look', the wakeful, watchful eye that keeps its vigils 
by the slumbering babe', are all beyond the finest strains of 
poetry', and the boldest flights o( fancy^. They are felt 
only in the heart of man^; — they live in his sympathies^; 
they reign in his afrections\ His eye roves in vain through 
all the earth to find a counterpart beyond his own bosom^; 
it lies there in sweet repose', holding its empire', until the 
tide of life is frozen by the touch of death\ 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 87 

3. The opening charms of spring', dressed in their livery 
of green'; the harmony of inspiring sounds', poured from 
the unfettered brook'; the woods and groves', peopled wiih 
new life', and bursting forth with new song', — are like 
the unfolding beauties of infant loveliness\ It is the con- 
templation of these', which awakens the train of tender 
emotions', imaged in the mother's smile', as she lifts her 
babe to her embrace', and feels that all her cares^, her tears^, 
and deep anxieties', are more than lialf repaid\ None but 
a mother knows these holy emotions^ — this holiday of the 
soul\ 

4. Such moments are the most delicious of her existence\ 
They are moments of sweet delight', on which her memory 
feasts with unmingled emotions of holy joy\ It is not a 

frenzy of delight in which she revels'; for although all her 
feelings are awake', there is a soft and pensive shade that 
sweetens every expression^; and each pulsation of the heart', 
seems as tremulous as the aspen leaf when kissed by the 
whispering zephyi\ But these are feelings beyond the 
reach of language'; they are known only to the mother'^; 
—and man must forever be a stranger to tiiem\ 

5. *' Lo'! at the couch', where infant beauty sleeps'. 
Her silent watch', the anxious mother keeps\ 
She', while the lovely babe', unconscious lies'. 
Smiles on the slumbering child with pensive eyes', 
And weaves a S07ig of sweet delirious joy\ — 
Sleeps, image of thy father'^ — sleeps, my boy\ 

Note. This and a few following exercises are left for the 
learner to apply the inflections, 4^c. in pencil mark, 

EXERCISE XXIX. 

The Indians of America, 

Both as our forefathers found them, and as vi^e know them. 

C. Sprague. 

1. Not many generations since, where you now sit,* the 
rank iTiistle nodded in the wind, and the fox of the forest 

* The old South Church, in Boston. 



88 THE JUVENILE ORATOR, 

dug his hole unscared. Then there here lived another race 
of beings. Beneath the same sun that rolls over your heads, 
the Indian hunter chased the fallow deer; gazing on the 
same moon that smiles on you, the Indian lover wooed his 
dusky mate. Here the wigwam blaze, beamed on the young 
and helpless, and the council fire, glared on the wise and 
daring. Now they dip their noble limbs in yonder sedgy 
lake, and now they paddle their bark canoe along yon craggy 
shore. Here they warred; — the echoing whoop, the defying 
death, the bloody grapple — all were here; and when the 
tiger strife was done, here curled the smoke of peace. 

2. Here, too, they worshipped; — and from many a dark 
bosom, went up to the Great Spirit, a pure and fervent prayer. 
He had not written laws for them on tables of stone, but he 
had traced them on the tablet of their hearts. The poor 
child of nature, knew not the God of Revelation, but the 
God of the universe he acknowledged in every thing around 
him. He beheld him in the star that sunk in beauty be- 
hind his lowly dwelling; — in the glowing orb that flamed 
upon him from a noonday throne; — in the blossom that 
opened to the morning breeze; — in the towering pine that 
defied a thousand whirlwinds; — in the timid warbler that 
never left his native grove; — in the fearless eagle whose un- 
tired pinions cleft the nether cloud, and in his own matchless 
for^u, animated by a spark of that light to whose mysterious 
source he bowed in humble adoration: — But all this has 
passed away. 

3. Across yon rolling ocean, came a pilgrim bark, freighted 
with the seeds of life and death. The former were sown 
for you; — the latter sprung up in the path of the simple 
native. Two hundred years have changed the character of 
a great continent, and blotted forever from its face a whole 
peculiar people. Art has usurped the bowers of nature, and 
the anointed child of education, has been too mighty for the 
untaught man of the woods. Here and there a stricken few 
remain, but how unlike their bold, untamed, and untameable 
progenitors! The Indian of eagle glance, and lion bearing 
— the theme of the touching ballad, and the hero of the pa- 
thetic tale, is forever gone! And his poor degraded offspring, 
crawl upon the soil where he walked in majesty, to remind 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 89 

US how miserable is man when the foot of the conqueror is 
upon his neck! 

4. As a race, the Indians have withered from the land. 
Their arrows are broken; their springs are dried up; their 
council fires have gone out, and their war-cry is dying in 
the untrodden west. Slowly and sadly they climb the dis- 
tant hills, and read their final exit in the setting sun. They 
are sinking beneath the mighty tide that is pressing them 
away, and they will soon hear the roar of the last v/ave that 
hides them from earth. 

Some ages hence, some philosophic white man, standing 
near some mighty city, planted where the panther now 
prowls, and the raven builds her nest, and, pondering on 
the structure of some Indian's disentombed remains, will 
wonder to what manner of persons they belonged. They 
will be known only in the songs and chronicles of coming 
times: — O may these be faithful to their rude virtues as men, 
and to their unrighteous fate as a noble pco:)!e. 

EXERCISE XXX. 

The Blessings of Peace, 

1. Lovely art thou, O Peace! — and lovely is thy voice in 
all the land; — lovely are thy uninaimed children, and lovely 
their footsteps among the green herbs of the valley. Wreaths 
of curling smoke arise above the leafy grove, and point to 
the quiet cottage, half hidden by the spreading branches. 
The eye of the husbandman rests with content on the well 
thatched hay-rick, and the corn-crib filled with the gathered 
harvest, and he laughs at the approach of hoary winter. 

2. Smiling hamlets decorate the face of the country, and 
thrifty cities pour their wealth into the lap of the metropolis. 
The lowing hind stands midway in the cooling pool, and 
the bleating flock crop the tender grass in quiet. The case- 
ment of the farm-house, is covered with the creeping honey- 
suckle, and the stately green-house sends forth the perfume 
of tropical climes. 

3. Little children climb the grassy mound of the massy 
fortress, and creeping ivy holds together the half demolished 
buttress. Old men and matrons sit by their hearth, enjoy- 



90 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

ing the fruits of their industry. The gossip leans upon her 
distaff and chats of the village news, while young men and 
maidens enjoy the promise of coming felicity. 

4. The housewife's stores of household linen, as white 
as the untrodden snow, lie packed away with fragrant herbs, 
and the thrifty merchant's wares are spread abroad, un- 
harmed, to every buyer's eyes, while the labor of each gives 
profit and plenty to all. The men of the North drink the 
tea of China, and the coffee of Arabia, and the daughters of 
the West wear the web of Hindostan. 

5. The Jame, and the halt, and the blind, repose in quiet 
hospitals, and the blessed and blessing charities of life, cir- 
culate from the prince to the peasant. The rich succor 
and help the poor, and the poor in turn esteem and aid the 
rich. Justice pervades all the borders of the land, and is 
meted out alike to all conditions of life. Law sits on her 
throne wielding a sceptre supreme, and the sword is her 
servant. Lovely art thou, O, Peace! and lovely is thy voice 
in all the land. 

Welcome in the eastern cloud, 

Messenger of mercy still ! 
Now, ye winds, proclaim aloud, 

*' Peace on earth, to man good will!" 

EXERCISE XXXI. 

The Horrors of War. 

L Terrible art thou, O War, and fearful is thy voice 
among the children of men: By thee, death reigns triumph- 
ant, and glories in the w^ork of carnage. The bannered 
hosts go forth to devastate, and gory are their footsteps on 
the rugged turf of the tented field. They pass like the 
storm, and, like a cloud of locusts, they devour the sub- 
stance of the earth. The honors of the grave are forgotten, 
the hearth of the cottage is forsaken, the village is wrapped 
in flames, and smouldering ruins bestrew the desolate plain. 

2. Surrounded by thy ravages, man looks upon man in 
wild dismay. The fruits of the toil of all his years, are 
swept from before him, and, in the evening of his days, he 
is left to wander and want. His spirit mourns, like the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 91 

captive Israelite by the stream of Babylon, because the 
temple of his God is profaned; the soldier's curse resounds 
in the house of prayer; the marble isle is tramped by iron 
hoofs, and a troop of horse neigh by the side of the altar. 
Under thy banner, all law and all order are forgotten; vio- 
lence and rapine go abroad unchecked — and the golden 
cords of life are loosed and lost. 

3. On one side, are heard the cry of anguish and shrieks 
of wo, while, on the other, suppressed indignation bursts the 
heart in silent despair. Behold that lingering youth! — He 
is the first born of maiden beauty. — But yesterday, he 
bounded like the roebuck, and glowed like summer fruit; — 
active in sports, and strong in labor; — but he has passed in 
a moment to helpless infirmity. He is more feeble than his 
grand-sire upon whose head have descended the snows of 
eighty years; — but his were the snows of nature; — the 
youth's are the ravages of war. 

4. Under thy cover, O War! things unholy and unclean 
come forth from their lurking places, and deeds of dark pol- 
lution are perpetrated in the face of broad-eyed day. The 
ear of maiden delicacy no longer feels a shock at the tale of 
outrage and brutal wrong, and her eyes ha^e grown familiar 
with scenes of abomination. 

These, O child of reason! are some of the balefid horrors 
of war. Contrast them closely with the blessings of peace, 
and say to which of the two thou inclinest; — choose thee 
therefore the cause to which thou wilt yield thy future in- 
fluence. 

5. But Linden saw another sight, 
When drums did beat at dead of night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 

The darkness of the scenery. 
By torch and trumpet, fast array 'd, 
Each horseman drew his battle blade, 
And furious every charger neigh'd 

To join the dreadful revelry. 

6. Then shook the hills with thunder riv'n; 
Then rush'd the steed to battle driv'n; 



92 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

And louder than the bohs of heaven, 

Far flash'd the red artillery. 
Ah! few shall part where many meet; 
The snow shall be their winding sheet; 
And every turf beneath their feet, 

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 

EXERCISE XXXII. 

The destruction of the City of Herculaneum, about Jl.D, 
79; large portions of which have lately been dug open, 
and revealed to the world the fashions qnd arts as they 
were 2000 years ago, 

1. Herculaneum was a large, populous, and splf^'vlj*] rity 
of Southern Italy, situated amidst all that nature con Li f)ro- 
duce of beauty and profusion, and all that art could collect 
of science and magnidcence. These were the accumulations 
of many ages; — the birth and abiding place of enlightened 
multitudes; the seats of fashion, of festivity, and of merri- 
ment. But in a fatal moment, as by the waving of a wizard's 
wand, the whole was obliterated from the face of day. 

2. Its palaces, its temples, adorned with weaUh and 
beauty; — and its gardens, glowing with unceasing spring; — 
and its inhabitants, reveling in the dance, the song, and the 
enjoyment of life's luxuries, were swept at once and forever 
from their places in the universe. It was not by disease — 
not by famine — not by war — but they vanished, as by magic, 
in a single night, amidst the conflagrations of nature her- 
self; — -presenting to ihe world a spectacle of desolation, 
upon which the wildest flights of fancy might grow weary 
in attempting to ape the terrible reality. 

3. The eruption of Mount Vesuvius, by which this beau- 
tiful city, and that of Pompeii were overwhelmed, is chiefly 
described in the interesting letters of Pliny, the younger, 
relating to the fate of his unfortunate uncle, and the situation 
of himself and his mother. His uncle, the elder Pliny, 
who had just returned from the bath and entered his study, 
observed a dark speck, like a cloud, which seemed to ascend 
from the summit of Mount Vesuvius. 

4. This cloud gradually increased; until it assumed the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 93 

figure and appearance of a newly withered pine tree; — the 
trunk composed of dust and dense vapor, and the leaves of 
red cinders. The startled philosopher became deeply ex- 
cited; he ordered his galley to be manned, and pushed for- 
ward to examine the wonderful phenomenon. On nearing 
the shore, he very humanely, and most venturously em- 
ployed iiis boat in saving the wretched inhabitants who were 
flying from the beautiful villas that adorned the, enchanting 
coast. 

5. This memorable catastrophe commenced about mid- 
day — but a far deeper darkness than that of an Egyptian 
night, had closed round the ill-fated inmates of this devoted 
city. In this portentous gloom, Herculaneum and the whole 
neighboring region, was perfectly enveloped for the space 
of nearly three days; — and when the sun again looked npon 
the spot where this lovely city stood, his broad beam fell 
npon an ocean of molten lava! 

6. There was no plant, no shrub, no dwelling, no spot of 
earth, no living creature, not even a remnant of any tiling 
that the hands of man had reared, to meet his smile and 
welcome his return. One black, unbroken surface, still 
teeming with mephitic vapor, and swelling into calcined 
waves by the force of heat and the undulations of the earth- 
quake, was all that met the eye of the astonished multitudes 
wlio, from other cities, gathered to the spot to witness the 
frightful ruin. 

EXERCISE XXXIII. 

A Dialogue on Dancing. 
School Boys, Henry and Thomas. 
Henry. Tom', when are you going to begin dajicing^? 
You will be so old in a short time, that you will be ashamed 
to be seen taking your five steps^. 

Thomas. I don't know', Henry', as I shall begin at all\ 
Father says he don't care Tijig whether 1 learn io jump any 
better than I do now\ and as I am to be a tradesman', he 
is determined', at present', to keep me at the reading and 
writing schools\ 

Hen. That must be very dull and dry for you\ And 
9 



94 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

what good will all such learning do you', so long as you 
make the awkward appearance you do at present? I am 
surprised at your father's folly\ So', because you are to 
be a tradesman^ you are not to learn the gracesM I expect 
to learn a trade /oo\ But my papa says', I shsiW first learn 
the dancing trade^; and then', if I never learn any other', I 
shall make my way through the world well enough\ 

Thos. I don't know which discovers the most folly\?/owr 
father or mine^. Old folks certainly know more than young 
ones\ And my father is much the older man\ 

Hen. I don't believe that doctrine\ There is Jack Up- 
start knows more than his father and mother hoth>. And 
he is but nineteen yet', and he says the present generation', 
under five and twenty years of age', knows more than fifteen 
generations that have gone before us\ 

Thos. I don't know how that is'; but father early taught 
me this proverb^ — *' Young folks think old folks are fools\ 
but old folks know young ones to be so'." But to return to 
schools^. Pray how far have you gone in your arithmetic^? 

Hen. Arithmetic'! I have not begun that yet'; nor shall 1 
till I have completed dancing\ That is a dry study ^; I know 
I shall never like it\ 

Thos. Writing I suppose you nrefond of^? 

Hen. 1 can't say I am,^ Thomas\ I once had a tolerable 
fondness for it', but since I began dancing', I have held it 
in utter contempt\ It may be well enough for a person to 
write a legible hand' — but it is no mark of a gentleman to 
write elegantly'. 

Thos. You would have a gentleman spell well I sup- 
pose'? 

Hen. I would have him spell so well as to be urider- 
stood^; and that is enough for any man\ 

Thos. What do you say to Grammar and Geography^? 

Hen. Don't 7iame them\ I entreat you\ There is no- 
thing I so much abhor', as to hear your learned school boys', 
jabbering over their nouns', their pronouns', their verbs', 
their parables', their congregations', their imperfections', and 
their confluctions\ I'll tell you what', Thomas', I would 
rather be master of one hornpipe', than to understand all the 



THE^ JUVENILE ORATOR, 95 

grammars which have been published since the art of print- 
ing was discovered\ 

Thos. I am sorry\ friend Henry', to hear you speak so 
contemptuously of the soliil scien('es\ I hope you don't 
mean to neglect them entirely'. If you do\ you must expect 
to live m poverty^^ and die the derision and scorn of all wise 
men\ 

Hen. Never fear that^, Thomas\ I shall take care o^ my- 
self, I warrant you\ You are much mistaken in your prog- 
nostications\ W hy ', there's Tom Fiddlefaddle', he can't even 
write his name''; and as for reading, he scarcely knows B 
from a broomstick'; and yet he can dance a minuet with any 
master of the art in Christendom\ And the ladies all love 
him dearly\ He is invited to their balls, routes, assem- 
blies, card-parties', &c.', &c/, and he diverts them like any 
inonkey\ 

Thos. And does he expect it will be the same through 
life'? How is he to be maintained when he becomes old'^l 
and how is he to amuse himself after he is unable to dance^? 
as you say he can neither read nor vvrite\ 

Hen. Why', in fact', I never thought of those things 
before'. I confess there seems to be some weight in your 
queries\ I don't know but it will be best for me to spare a 
day or two in a week from my dancing, to attend to the 
branches you are pursuing\ 

exercise xxxiv. 
The Battle of Lexington. 
Captain McFuse, Mr, Sage, and young Lincoln. 
Capt. McF. What may be your o[)inion of these doings\ 
as you call them, Mr. Sage^? You', w^ho are a man of ob- 
servation', should understand your countrymen^; — will they 
fight'? 

Sage. A rat will fight, if the cats pen him'. 
Capt. McF. But do the Americans conceive themselves 
. penned'? 

Sage. Why, that is pretty much as people think, Cap- 
tain\ the country was in a great toss about the stamps and 
feci"; but /always said', such folks as don't give their notes- 



96 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

o/'hand', and had no great relish for any thing more than 
plain country food' , wouldn't find themselves cramped by 
the laws', after a//^" 

Capt. McF. Then you see no great oppression in being 
asked to pay your bit of tax', Mr. Sage', to maintain such a 
worthy fellow as myself, in a decent equipment', to fight 
your battles'. 

Sage. Why', as to that', Captain', I suppose we can do 
pretty much the whole of our fighting\ when occasion calls', 
though I don't think there is much stomach for such doings 
among the people', without jieed^. 

Capt. McF. But', what do you think the Committee of 
Safety\ and your Sons of Liberty^, as they call themselves', 
really mean by their parades of rni7iut e-men^, their gathering 
of provisions^, their carrying ofl^ the cannon^, and such other 
formidable and appalling preparations^; — hal honest Seth'l 
Do you think to frighten British soldiers with the roll of 
the drum', or are they amusing themselves', like boys in 
the holidays', with playing war^? 

Sage. I should conclude', Captain McFuse', that the 
people know what they are about^; and that they are pretty 
much engaged and in earnest^, 

Capt. McF. To do what^? To forge their own chains^, 
that we m^Y fetter them in truth>l 

Sage. Why', seeing they have burnt the stamps', and 
thrown the tea into the harbor'; and since that', have taken 
the management into their own hands', I should rather con- 
clude they had pretty much determined to do what they 
think best\ 

Young Lincoln. [Laughingly,) You appear to come to 
conclusions' , Capt. McFuse', without your hosV", notwith- 
standing so mucli is d€termined\ It is well understood', 
Mr. Sage', that large reinforcements are coming to the 
colonies^; — and to Boston, in particular^. 

Sage. Why, yes^; it seems to be pretty generally con- 
templated on\ 

Lin. And what is the result of those contemplations^? 

Sage, Why', as the country is considerably engaged in 
business', there are some', who think if the ministers don't 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 97 

open the port', that it will be done', without much further 
words', by the people^. 

Lin. Do you knoiv that such an attempt would lead di- 
rectly to a civil war'? 

Sage. I suppose it is safe to conclude that such doings 
would bring on disturbance''. 

Lin. And you speak it', sir', as a thing not to be depre- 
cated', and averted by every possible means in the power 
of the nation\ 

Sage. If the port is opened', and the right to tax given 
np', I can find a man in Boston', who will engage to let 
them draw all tfie blood that will be spilt', from his own 
veins for nothinor^. 



exercise XXXV. 

The Tyrant Gesler, and William TelL 
[The Scene is laid in Switzerland.] 

Gesler. Why speak^st thou not^? 

W. Tell. For wonder^. 

Ges. Wonder'? 

Tell. Yes\ that thou should'st seem a man''. 

Ges. What should I seem^? 

Tell. A monster-'^! 

Ges. Ha'! Beware^: — think on thy chains'". 

Tell. Though they were double^, and did weigh me 
down', prostrate to the earth^, methinks I could rise up 
erect', with nothing but the honest pride of telling thee', 
usurper', to the teeth', thou art a monster^! Think upon 
my chains'! show me the link of them', which', could it 
speak', would give its evidence against my word\ Think 
of my chains'! — think of my chains'! How came they 
on me^? 

Ges. Barest thou question me'? 

Tell. Barest thou answer^? 

Ges. Bo I hear'? 

Tell. Thou dost^, 

Ges. Beware of my vengeance''. 

Tell. Can it more than kill'? 
9.^ 



98 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Ges. Enough^ — it can do tliat^. 

Tell. No\ — not enoughs — It cannot take away the 
grace of life' — the comeliness of look vviiich virtue gives'; 
its port erect with consciousness of truth' ; its rich attire 
of honorable deeds'^ its fair report'^ that's rife on good 
men's tongues'; it cannot lay its hand on these\ no more 
than it can pluck his brightness from the sun>; or', with 
polluted finger', tarnish ii\ 

Ges. But it can make thee writhed 

Tell. It may\ 

Ges. And groait. 

Tell. It may\ and I may cry', go on>, though it should 
make me groan again"^. 

Ges. Whence contest thou^? 

Tell. From the mountains'^. Would'st thou learn what 
news from them'? 

Ges. Canst tell me any'? 

Tell. Av\ — they watch no m.ore the avalanche^ 

Ges. Why so^? 

Tell. Because they look for thee^. The hurricane comes 
unawares upon them\ from its bed', the torrent breaks', and 
finds them in its track\ 

Ges. What do they then^? 

Tell. Thank heaven it is not thou^l Thou hast perverted 
nature in them\ The earth presents her fruits to theiii', and 
is not thanked"^; the harvest sun is constant', and they scarce 
return his smile\^ their flocks and herds increase', and they 
look on as men who count a loss^; they hear of thriving 
children born to them', and never shake the teller by the 
hand^; while those they have, they see grow up and flourish', 
and think as little of increasing them', as they were things 
a deadly plague had smit\ There is not a blessing Heaven 
vouchsafes them', but the thought of thee doth wither to a 
curse', as something they must lose', and richer were the 
lack\ 

Ges. That's right\' I'd have them like their hills', which 
never smile', though wanton summer tempt them e'er so 
much\ 

Tell. But they do sometimes smile'. 

Ges. Ay 'I— when is thai^? 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 99 

7'ell. ^Yhen they do talk of vengeance^, 
Ges. Vengeance'! Dare they talk of that'? 
Tell. Ay^; and expect it', too\ 
Ges. From lohence^? 
Tell. From Heaven""! 
Ges. From Heaven'? 

'J'ell. And the true hands are lifted up to it', on every 
hiir, {ox justice on thee\ 



CHAPTER YII. 

THE MODULATIONS APPLIED TO READING VEPtSE BY 
DEFINITE RULES. 

general remarks. 

It is more difficult to read poetry well, than prose. The 
language is more elliptical, and the sense more obscure. The 
charm of poetry is made up, principally, of delicacy of sen- 
timent and brevity of expression; and, in reading, these 
characteristics must be specially considered. 

When the language of poetry awakens the emotion of 
dignity, reverence, or deep devotion, the voice assumes a 
corresponding character; it has less variety and less intensity 
in the slides, and it runs almost insensibly into the regions of 
the monotone. But when the language awakens the gende, 
the delicate, the plaintive, or the tender emotions, the voice 
becomes softened, and runs easily into the rising slide. But 
tlie emphatic stress and the inflections have their claims, 
and must be regarded even at the expense of the affectionate 
and sympathetic emotions. 

liCt it be remembered that the pauses, and the inflections, 
and all the other principles observed in reading prose, must 
also be observed in reading poetry; and to these must be 
added a few others which are peculiar to the delivery of this 
species of composition. They will be explained in the fol- 
lowing directions. 

Rule 1. A pause and a consequent slide of the voice, 



100 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

must be observed at the close of every line; but the duration 
of the pause must be governed by the sense. 

Example 1. While conscience', like a faithful friend', 
Shall through the gloomy vales attend', 

And cheer our parting breath^; 
Shall', when all other comforts cease', 
Like a kind angel', whisper peace'. 

And smooth the bed of death\ 

2. Now the pine tree's waving top', 

Gently greets the morning gale^; 
Kidlings now begin to crop'. 
Daisies on the dewy vale\ 

Sweet — O siveet'J — the warbling throng', 
On the white emblossom'd spray^; 

Nature's universal song', 
Echos to the rising day\ 

Now, he se^s behind the hill'. 

Sinking from a golden sky^; 
Can the penciVs mimic skill'. 

Copy the refulgent die'? 

3. Where the beauteous Niger roll'd', 
Through the land of slaves and gold', 
On the bank a Tiger lay'. 
Slumbering through the sultry day\ 

Stately palms their branches spread', 
Cool and verdant o'er his head^; 
Deeply murmuring in iiis ear'. 
Rippling ran the river clears 

4. While the sim', in noon of light'. 
Like an eagle in his flight', 
Borne upon the wings of time', 
Tower'd in majesty sublime^; 
Earth and ocean' — air and sky' — 
Basking in his boundless eye\ 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 101 

5. Soft as the desert fowitains flow% 
Sweet as ocean breezes blow', 
Came fair NiUa\ matchless ma id\ 
"Where the sleeping monster laid\ 

O what wild, enchanting grace\ 
Sparkled o'er her dimpl'd faceM 

Observation 1. Sometimes the relation between the last 
word in the line, and the first of the following, is so very 
close, that the pause is nothing more than a brief suspension 
of utterance, and the slide very slightly turned upwards. 
When it so happens that the article which limits the noun, 
the adjective which qualifies it, and the preposition which 
governs it, are so separated — which is very seldom, the 
pause must be very slight, and yet perfectly distinct, w^hile- 
the voice continues suspended; that is, slides neither up nor 
down. 

6. O'er their heads a crystal firmament', 
Whereon^a saphyre throne', inlaid with pure 
Amber'^, and colors of the show'ry bow\ 

On a sudden', open fly', 
With impetuous recoil', d^nd jarring sound', 
Th' infernal doors'^ and', on their hinges', grate 
Harsh thunder^, 

7. And if each system in gradation roll', 
Alike essential to th' amazing whole', 
The least confusion but in one', not all 
That system only', but the whole must fall\ 

Here lies the substance''. And I thank thee', king'. 
For thy rare bounty', which not only gives 
Me cause to weep', but teaches me the way 
To lament that cause."^ 

Note 1. In almost every kind of verse, a suspension of utterance* 
called the cesural pause, must be made; and where it occurs in the 
third line, or the last but one in a verse of several lines, it adds greatly 
to the beauty and variety of delivery to accompany that pause v/ith a 
slight downward slide of the voice; it serves to throw the two last 



102 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

lines into a series of four compound members; the effect of which 
will appear from an application of the following- direction to a few 
examples where the pause is marked by a slender dash. 

Rule 2. ^When the measure will admit of the cesnral 
pause, the last but one, or the penult cesura, has a slight, 
falling slide of the voice, and the last, the rising slide. 

Ex. 1. But darkness and doubts' — are now flying away^; 

No longer I roam', in conjectures forlorn^; 
So break on the traveller^ — faint and astray', 

The bright and the balmy' — eflulgence of morn\ 
See truth, love, and mercy' — in triumph descending^! 

And nature all glowing' — in Eden's first bloom^; 
On the cold cheek of deatli" — smiles and roses are blending', 

And beauty immortal', awakes from the tomb\ 

2. But what was the cause""- — of that tranquil enjoyment^? 
Not the hou'se'j not ihejie'lds' — not the pro'spect so rare'; 

Not the orchard', wot pond^ — nor rural employment; 

But the dearly low d friends' — of my bosom were there\ 

And the day that we parted' — the heart-rending anguish'. 
No pen can describe' — nor the pencil portray^; 

To me', all the beauties around^ — seem'd to languish'. 
And all the hnghi prospect' — to fade and decay\ 

3. There's a bold, bald bird' — with a bended beak', 
With an angry eye'— and a startling shriek', 

That inhabits the crag"- — where the clift flowers grow', 
On the precipice-top' — in perpetual snow\ 
He's the bird of our banner^ — the eagle that braves', 
When the battle is there' — the wrath of the waves^; 
He rides on the storm^ — in its hurricane march', 
'Mid lightning's broad flash' — through heaven's blue arch\ 

5. I have pass'd o'er the hills' — of the stormy North\ 
And the larch has hung' — all his tassels forth^; 
The fish-boat is oul^ — on the soft sunny sea'. 
And the rein-deer bounds' — through the forests free^; 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 103 

Now the pine wears a fringe^ — of softer green', 
And the moss looks bright' — where I have been\ 

EXERCISES. 

*^ few brief Exercises, referring to the Rides in the 1th 
Chapter, 

EXERCISE XXXIV. 

Addressed to a knot of Daffodils. 

1. Fair daffodils', we weep to see' 

You haste away so soon^; 
As yet', the early rising sun', 
Hath not attained his noon\ 

StayM stay^l 
Until the rising day', 

Has run', 
But to ev'ning song', 
And', having prayed together', we 

Will go with you along\ 
We have short time to stay as yov>$ 

We have as short a spring^; 
As quick a growth to meet decay 
As yoy>; — or any other thing\ 

We die — 
As your hues die^; — and dry 

Away', 
Like the soft summer rain^; 
Or like the pearls of morning dew', 
Ne'er to return again\ 

The Snail and his House. 

2. To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall',' 
The Snail sticks close', nor fears a fall', 
As if he greiv ihere^ — house and all — 

Together\ 

Within that house', secure he hides', 
W^hen danger, imminent', betides' — 
Of storm', or other harm besides' — 

Of weather\ 



104 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Give but his horns the slightest touch', 
His self-collecting power is such', 
He shrinks into his house v^^ith much' 

Displeasure\ 
Where'er he dwells', he lives alone^; 
Except himself, has chattels none^; 
Well satisfied to be his own' 

Whole treasure\ 
Thus', hermit-like', his life he leads^; 
'Nor partner of his banquet needs^; 
And if he meets one', only feeds' 

The fast er\ 
Who seeks him', must be worse than hUnd>, 
(He and his house are so combin'd',) 
If, finding it\ he fails to find' — 

Its master\ 

EXERCISE XXXVII. 

The Chime of St. Marks.'' 

I. Those evening bells' — those evening bells', 
How many a tale' — their music tells', 
Of youth', and home^ — and native clime'. 
When I last heard' — their soothing chimeM 

Those pleasant hours' — have pass'd away^; 
And many a heart' — which then was gay', 
Within the tomb^ — 7iow darkly dwells'. 
And hears no more' — those evening bells\ 

And so 'twill be' — when / am gone^; 
l^hat mournful peal' — will still ring on', 
When other bards^ — shall walk those dells'. 
And sing youv praise'' — sweet evening bells\ 

* These sweetly touching lines are said to have been occasioned by 
the following incident : — A bell-maker who had cast, and hung, and 
attuned the chime at St. Marks, wandered far into distant climes, and 
after many years returned to his own home. As he approached the 
city toward evening, in a small boat across the bay, the chime burst 
upon his ears and nearly overpowered all his faculties. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 105 

The Song of the Spheres. 

2. When the radient morn' — of creation broke', 
And the spheres in the smile' — of Jehovah 'woke', 
And the empty realms' — of darkness and death', 
Were mov'd thro' their depths' — by his mighty breath'; 
And worlds of light' — and orbs of flame', 

From the void abyss' — in myriads came'; 

In ihejoy of youth' — as they roU'd away'. 

Thro' the winding wastes' — of space, to play', 

U'heir silver notes^ — in chorus rung'. 

And this is the song' — which the bright worlds sung\ 

^n .Address to the Stars. 

3. Ye 2iYefair^, ye are/airM — and your pencil rays' — 
Steal down like the light' — of departed days\ 

But have sorrow and sin' — never wander'd o'er', 
The green abodes' — of your sunny shore'? 
Hath no frost been there' — no withering blast' — 
Cold, cold o'er the flowers' — and {he forest pass'd'? 
Does the playful leaf — neither fall nor fade'? 
The rose never droop' — in the silent shade'? 
Does there come no cloud' — on your morning beam'? 
On your night of repose' — no troubled dream'? 

The Departure of the Pilgrims— £.D. 1620. 

4. When crown and crosier' — rul'd a coward world', 
When mental darkness"" — o'er the nations curl'd', 
When wrapt in sleep' — earth's torpid children lay'. 
Hugged their vile chains'— and dream\l their age away'; 
'Twas then', hy faith impell'd' — hy freedom fir'd', 

By hope supported' — by God inspir'd'; — 
'Twas then the Pilgrims' — left their fathers' graves' — 
To seek a home' — beyond the waste of waves^ — 
And where it rose' — all rough and wintry here'. 
They swell'd devotion's song' — and dropt devotion's tear\* 

* The scholar will hardly fail to observe that the cesural pause fre- 
quently occurs where the grammatical point is placed; — and also that 
the falling cesural slide is often controlled by higher considerations 
than simple harmony. 
10 



106 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE XXXVIII. 

Our Days pass as a tale that is told. 

The last days of my youth' — why, indeed, ye are come'^l 
And the tints of life's morning' — will soon fade away^; 

I 07ice vainly fanci'd'— -my cheek's purple bloom' — 
Immortal as angels' — would never decay\ — 

Nor can I believe' — the cold words of my tongue' — 

When it falters' — that I am no more to be young\ 

But yesterday' — I was a boy^, and I wore' — 
My jacket of blue^, and my bow round my neck^; 

And I danc'd', and I sung' — and I laughingly bore' 
To my little mates' — wreaths of flow'rs to deck — 

Our rosy foreheads' — where clusters of gold 

Hung so bright^: — could you think they would ever grow 
old'? 

Bless'd years of the past'! How I love to trace', 
With memory's pencil' — your images dear^! 

Like a painter' — call'd late' — to take the sweet face 
Of a beautiful babe' — lying dead on the bier\ 

But oh'! as your picture'—I fondly pursue', 

A soft-stealing /ear-drop' — -my eyelids bedew\ 

No wonder'^ — for who can\ unmov'd', bid adieu'. 
To mysterious raptures' — warm youth only knows^? 

And on the world's dim' — dreary threshold to view — 
The opening scenes' — of his joys and his woesM 

Who gazes' — nor sighs' — with a heart deeply wrung'. 

Why can we not always'' — be blooming and young^? 

Remark. — Here follows a few exercises in which the 
scholar will carefully apply all the foregoing characters in 
pencil mark, and then read as his judgment and taste, aided 
by his teacher's skill, shall best dictate. 

It must not, it cannot indeed, be expected that, with all 
his care, he will succeed perfectly at the first or even at the 
fiftieth trial; perfection, in this respect, must be the result 
of patient practice: — but every effort will give him new 
thought, fresh confidence, and renewed resolution to per- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 107 

severe. A good mind is rarely crushed by little trifles; — 
and very few American youths have bad minds. 

exercise xxxix. 

The Threat Recalled. 

The Cottager's Address to Winter. 

Well, old Gentleman — thou hast come again 
To give poor man another cold embrace; 

But still, I see, in thy forbearing mien, 
Some smiles of comfort in thy frosty face. 

Extend thy snowy mantle o'er the world; 

And, with thy icy sceptre, tyrant, reign; 
O'er nature's face thy tempests may be hurl'd, 

And northern blasts may sweep along the plain. 

Thou wilt not hurt my little thatched cot — 
As thou rid'st low'ring on the passing gale; 

But pause, delighted wiib my happy lot. 
And, whistling, listen to the evening tale. 

But if thou cap'rest round my house, and storm, 
And troub'lest widi thy chills an honest soul, 

I warn thee now; beware thy grissly form; 

I'll l3urn thee, like a wood-chuck, from thy hole. 

Stay, stay! old fellow; I recall that threat; 

1 feel my powers are weaker far than thine; 
Should I attempt to make thy noddle sweat, 

I fear one smack from thee might shiver mine. 

"• exercise xl. 

The Burial Place. 

The Grave brings all to one level. 

. Earth to earth, and dust to dust; 
Here the evil and the just; 
Here the youthful and the old; 
Here the timid and the bold; 



108 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Here the matron and the maid; 
In one common grave are laid. 

Here the vassal and the king, 
Side by side, lie mouldering; 
Here the sword and sceptre rust; 
Earth to earth, and dust to dust. 

Age on age shall roll along, 
O'er this pale and ghastly throng; 
Those who wept them, those who weep, 
All shall, with these sleepers, sleep. 

Trump of peace nor clarion's roar, 
Ne'er shall break their slumbers more; 
Death shall keep his silent trust, 
Mingled with its mother dust. 

EXERCISE XLI. 

A Parent's Reflections. 
Address of a Mother to her departed Infant. 

Light of my life! 
Quenched is the vital flame so soon! 

Or ere thy joys were rife, 
Or thou hadst reach'd youth's flow'ry noon! 

Thy days how few! 
How swifter than an eagle's -flight — 

Amid yon heaven of blue! 
Thy course, like his, soon wrapt from sight. 

Light of my life! 
And art thou gone! — forever gone? 

O grief! to thee the strife— 
I yield. Flow, then, my tears, flow on. 

Ah! fatal flight- 
To thee and thine! — Yet why deplore! 

Anon, in fields of light — 
We meet again — to part no more. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 109 

exercise xlii. 

The Seasons. 

These^ as they change^ are but the varied God. 

I mark'd the Spring as she pass'd along, 
With her eye of blue, and her lip of song; 
While she silently stole o'er the green earth's breast, 
And the streams gush'd out from their icy rest; 
The buds bent low to the zephyr's sigh, 
And their breath went up to the scented sky; 
Then the fields look'd fresh in their sweet repose, 
And the young dew slept on the new-bora rose. 

I look'd upon Summer; — the golden sun 
Pour'd joy over all the Spring had begun; 
His rays were cast as a bounty abroad. 
Like the boundless smile of a merciful God: 
The streams rejoic'd in their magic play. 
While fleecy clouds on the green hills lay; 
Over rich, dark woods their shadows went, 
As they floated in light, through the firmament. 

The scene was changed; — it was Autumn's hour; 
A frost had discolor'd the Summer bovver; 
The blast wail'd sad 'midst the canker'd leaves, 
While the reaper mused by the gaiher'd sheaves; 
The mellow pomp of the rainbow woods, 
Was stirr'd by the rush of the rising floods; 
And I knew by the clouds, and the wild wind's strain, 
That Winter was near, with his snow-clad train. 

I stood by the Ocean; — its deep waters roll'd. 
In their changeful hues of saphyre and gold; 
And the Day look'd down with its radiant smiles, 
When the blue waves danc'd round a thousand islee; 
Then ships went forth on the trackless seas, 
And their white wings play'd on the joyous breeze; 
Their prows rush'd on 'midst the parted foam. 
While the sailor was wrapt in a dream of home. 
10* 



no THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE XLIII» 

A Death Scene. 
The Good Mart's Departure to a Better World. 
How bright the scene where God-like virtue dies! 
Where crumbling nature looks up to the skies! 
Where sister spirits call the soul away, 
From earth to heav'n! — from night to endless day! 

How bright the hour that sees the good man soar — 
To heights where sin shall vex his soul no more! 
Where praise and prayer delights his ravish'd ear, 
And fellow angels wipe his last shed tear. 

When heav'n's fires around this world shall gleam, 
And close this tinsel'd shadow of a dream; 
When Gabriel's trump shall cleave the affrighted skies. 
And bid the dust of sleeping millions rise; 

Then, far from fear, and from the cries of wo, 
From shades that darken, and from fires that glow. 
The good man's spirit, like a spotless dove, 
Shall reign in glory, happiness, and love. 

exercise xliv. 
The Death of a Tiger. 
Nilla escapes his jaws hy plunging into the Niger. 
Sudden as the lightning's stroke. 
Glances on the splinter'd oak. 
At her touch, the tiger springs; 
With his voice, the forest rings. 
One wild moment Nilla stands. 
Then seeks the wave across the sands. 
With the roar of thunder, hollow. 
As the monster leaps to follow, 
Quick and keen a venom'd dart. 
Quivers in his cruel heart. 
Round he reels in mortal pain; 
Bites the barbed shaft in twain; 
Groans, and falls, and pours his breath, 
In a hurricane of death. 



PART SECOND. 

Select pieces^ both in prose and poetry^ for the exercise of 
the scholar in the application of the modulations of the 
voice. These are to be made in pencil mark, agreeably 
to the Rules exhibited in the foregoing pages, before 
the scholar attempts to read. 



CHAPTER I. 
PIECES IN PROSE. 

exercise i. 

Mary of the Valley. 

The Miseries resulting from the late Wars of Europe. 

1. Of the millions that went out to the battles of the am- 
bitious Emperor of the French, but comparatively few ever 
returned to the homes of their nativity. The mkery of the 
myriads who perished — their groans, their sigh;?^ their tears, 
with all the pangs of dissolving nature — has never been told; — 
the ears of the world have never been wounded by the report, 
nor the sympathies of the soul awakened by its sad recital. 
The wastes of war come to the page of history only in 
round numbers; they seldom awaken a thought of the detail, 
or bring before the mind a case of individual suffering. 

2. The wretchedness of the few who survive those 
wastes, (almost all of whom drag out a diseased or maimed 
existence,) excite but few sympathies, and then pass to 
almost total forgetfulness. If all their sufferings were 
penned, as was the story of the return of La Martch, with 
the fate of the beautiful *' Mary of the Valley" and her brave 



112 THE JUVENILE ORATOR, 

Bellrune, there would be some ground upon which a judg- 
ment might be formed of the weight of misery in a thousand 
similar cases. 

3. " At the close of the war," says La Martch, " I re- 
turned by brief stages, to my own country, and the village 
of my nativity. It was a sunny spot, and right lovely to 
look upon; but I had not seen it for thirteen tedious years, 
and my name began to be forgotten by the very households 
for which I had done battle: — it was a bitter thought. I 
went forth, and sat down by the fountain, where, in the 
careless days of boyhood, I had reclined upon the bank, and 
broken up the mirror-faced pool with the water polished 
pebbles; but it no longer delighted my heart. 

4. The cold winds of the north roared around me, and 
whistled through the ancient grove in hollow murmurs; all 
nature looked desolate, and my soul was sad and sick within 
me. I moistened my thirsty lips at the bubbling spring that 
fed the fountain; but the sweetness of the waters was gone. 
The pang of bitter remembrance entered my soul, and the 
blistering tear rolled down my cheek. I wished for the war 
again, that I might bury myself in its toils and turmoils, and 
remember the past no more. 

5. As I raised my head from a second draught at the 
spring, I saw by a copse of white thorns, a fair maiden 
dressed in the habiliments of a mourner. She was lovely 
to the eye, though she gladdened not my heart. As I ap- 
proached her, she raised her e^es, and showed me a face 
finely moulded and as touching as beauty in tears. 

' Where,' said I, ' is the abode of the young and beautiful 
Mary of the Valley? — Of her who once glided through this 
stately grove with the nimbleness of the fawn; — whose raven 
tresses floated upon the breath of the breeze; — and whose 
eyes beamed the cheerfulness of spring?' 
' 6. ' Mary of the Valley,' said the maid in weeds, with a 
sweet and tremulous voice, * was indeed young and beau- 
tiful ; — she was fair as the lily; sweet as the rose; and she 
had dove's eyes. But she sleeps beneath yon sodded mound, 
where the tall and seared grass waves to the moaning wind. 
Ten dreary winters have crumbled the bounty of as many 
sumnaers upon the lowly spot, while the unchanged cypress 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 113 

has watched and shaded the place of her dreamless repose. 
This grove that once knew her, will know her no more for- 
ever. She is gathered to the resting place of her fathers,' 

7. * And where,' said I to the maid in mourning, ' is her 
betrothed; — the brave and beloved Bellrune?' ' Her be- 
trothed,' said the maid, * went to the war. His arm was 
strong in battle; — he was terrible to the foe, and victory 
perched on his brow. But he too has gone to his rest. — 
As his Mary faded and fled to the grave, so he also sunk to 
the silent tomb. The trump of war breaks upon his ear no 
more; — he no more gathers to the banner of the mighty, for 
he has been gathered to the place of his rest. 

8. When the war clarion had sounded the note of victory, 
and the pipe of peace was again heard in the land, the brave 
Belhrune returned to the home of his youth, covered with 
honors, and loaded with spoils. But his Mary was gone; 
the hopes of his early love had vanished; the bitterness of 
wormwood was in his cup ; the canker-worm lay at the 
* silver chord,' and in heaviness of soul he gave up the 
ghost.*' Compiler. 

9. ** what is life, but some dark dream, 

From which man wakes to sigh! 
Some false, deceitful, meteor beam, 
That sheds a wandering, cheerless gleam. 

And brightens but to die! 
Or what are man's fleet joys below. 

But cares bedeck'd with smiles! 
The pageants of an empty show. 
That fain would hide a latent wo, 

From him it oft beguiles! 
And what the secret, pensive tear. 

But kindly dews of ev'n! 
Each drop, pellucid, sparkling, clear, 
To sympathy — to virtue, dear. 

Is soon exhaled to heaven!" 



114 the juvenile orator. 

exercise ii. 

, Health and Beauty. 

Ways and Means to preserve Health and prolong Beauty. 

1. Though all agree that good health is a blessing, and 
that it is greatly desired by almost every one; it is not so 
generally believed that great personal beauty, however fer- 
vently desired, is more a blessing than a curse. Beauty of 
form and comeliness of features, are always agreeable; but 
an extremely beautiful face is esteemed by many too dan- 
gerous to be seriously coveted. With the fairer portion of 
the human family, however, beauty is generally a first choice; 
• — it is the subject of their first prayer; and the loss of it, the 
object of their last sigh. 

2. Whatever may be the rage for beauty, or whatever its 
fascinations, its reign is generally brief; — like the rose, which 
it aptly resembles, it lasts but a season, and then goes back 
to the earth. Short however as its date naturally is, the 
fashions and customs of the age are by no means calculated 
to prolong its stay: — -nay, they evidently accelerate its de- 
cay: — How strangely infatuated ! Those however who 
possess bearuty, and would carry it with them even beyond 
** three score years," will not be displeased 1o learn that the 
happy secret of preserving it, is expressed in three little 
words: Temperance, Exercise, and Cleanliness. Now, 
without these, nothing can be beautiful; — and with theni, 
hardly any thing can be less than lovely. 

3. Temperance forbids not only excess in drinking, but 
excess in eating; not only excess in pleasure, but excess in 
labor: — it forbids excess in all that belongs to life; — to every 
thing that is done between the cradle and the coffin. A 
beauty, were she as bright as a cherub, and as elegant as 
the graces, would soon lose her charms by a course of excess 
in any thing that gives existence a relish. To accomplish 
the ruin of her beauty, she need be neither a toper nor a 
glutton; she need not dissipate a whole week nor a whole 
year. The evil lies not less in the quantity of w^hat her 
stomach receives, than in the quahty; — not less in the choice 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 115 

of her pleasures, than in the lengths to which she pursues 
them. All that is done, must be settled with strict reference 
to temperance, — if not, the prize of beauty is lost. 

4. She — who every morning breaks her fast with a cup 
of strong coffee or a bowl of chocolate, with a hot roll and 
butter, or a dish of greasy sausages — will soon lose both her 
beauty and her health. The hot grease clogs the stomach; 
generates an excess of bile; runs into the pores of the skin, 
and gives it a jaundice tinge. When this meal is over, a 
fast ensues; — which, to be fashionable, runs to four in the 
afternoon. Then comes the dinner hour; — and to this the 
charming creature repairs with an appetite pampered and 
sharpened for the occasion. But her craving is finally 
satisfied after a round of cayenne soups, buttered fish and 
flesh, roasted canvass-backs with garlic sauce, tainted game 
with peppered catsup, pasted osyters fried in butter, pud- 
dings, pies, tarts, sweet-meats, fruit, and ice-creams; — a 
feast ample indeed to make amends for all her mid-day 
fast. 

5. What must the delicate stomach suffer in the diges- 
tion of this crude mass? How promptly does the flushed 
face bear witness to the fierce combustion that rages within 
the loaded bosom? To assuage the consequent fever, the 
thoughtless beauty dilates the warring medley, not with 
water, nature's beverage, but with poisoned cordials, long- 
corked claret, Biddle champaigne, and sparkling Madeira. 
Now all this is rash, fatally rash excess, not temperance; 
and the only beauty that can long withstand its influence, 
is the beauty of the cold chiseled marble. 

6. But to this fearful over charge, and fevery action with- 
in, there is still to be added, what every lady adds, the 
pressure of steel and whalebone without: — The pressure of 
trebly laced corsets over the distended region of the digestive 
organs so intensely called into action. And when all this 
is done, count up the cost (if you can) of this excessive fast 
and feast, to the stock of any lady's beauty; subtract, and 
find the balance. 

Well might the admirers of pretty faces, ask with con- 
cern, *' Can beauty, under such a load, long survive?" and 



116 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

the answer comes back like an echo of their own convic- 
tion: — " Never!" 

7. By such excesses, the healthful texture of the delicate 
frame is broken up; the plan of nature is deranged; the 
elements of beauty are destroyed; the fine shading and color-. 
ing portions fly off; the dregs only remain; and what was 
once so lovely to the eye, so pleasant to the touch, so fasci- 
nating to the soul, soon gives place to a shrivelled leanness, 
or a gross fatness. The skin becomes discolored, and as- 
sumes a rigidity which is at once oflfensive both to the 
touch and the sight. Will elixirs, cosmetics, composts, or 
essences, restore the fearful waste? Will padding give shape 
to that which is shapeless? Will corsets and screws com- 
press into loveliness of form a chaos of flesh? Then will 
the Ethiopian change his color, and the leopard his spots. 
If intemperance, in any form, has once destroyed the fair 
fabric of female beauty, no human art can ever repair the 
dilapidation ; her charms, like stars that fall, go down to 
rise no more. 

8. But mere temperance will not always secure to the 
charming fair, the highest perfection of beauty. When once 
possessed, it must be fanned by the morning breeze, and 
housed from the evening damps. It must have exercise 
and nourishment or it soon perishes. 

This exercise must be had, not at summer mid-day, nor 
at winter mid-night; but in the free air — in the forest, field, 
or garden — on foot or on horseback — in an open carriage, 
or round, the flower wreathed May-pole. The evening 
atmosphere, charged with fetid exhalations, where *' Fever 
hangs brooding in the air," should never be inhaled by a 
beautiful woman. It saps the healthy action of the lungs, 
gives jaundice to the liver, clogs the secretions, choaks the 
circulation of life's fluids, and mars both health and beauty. 

'* Fly, if you can, the two extremes of air — 
The moist, the dry — They're canker to the fair." 

9. Next to temperance and exercise, may be ranked the 
duty of cleanliness; — for what those gain in health and 
beauty, this preserves in freshness and vigor. It gives 
pliancy to the limbs; softness to the skin; lustre to the com- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 117 

plexion; brightness to the eyes; beauty to the teeth; and 
increased nerve to the whole system. For this purpose, 
frequent the tepid bath; — it is not less grateful to the feel- 
ings than salutary to beauty". The soft sponge, charged with 
clear suds, and followed by the polishing flesh-brush, when 
a bath cannot be had, is the best substitute for daily ablu- 
tion; — it affords a half hour's seasonable exercise. The 
brush opens the pores of the skin; aids perspiration; re- 
moves all impurities, and leaves the scarf surface as soft and 
as delicate as that of a little child. If you have health, this 
will preserve it; — if you have beauty, this will brighten it, 
and prolong it into old age;— and if you have neither, this 
will soon establish the one, and render you lovely without 
the other. Compiler. 



EXERCISE HI. 

The Famous Upas. 
The Story of the Poison Tree of Java. 

1. One of the most sunny spots in the world, is the beau- 
tiful Island of Java — one of the cluster of Spice islands, lying 
in the Indian Ocean, called the Eastern Archipelago. Al- 
though the Dutch, who were the early navigators of those 
seas, have a foot-hold upon it, yet it is principally in the 
hands of the native tribes, and but slightly known to the 
great mass of mankind. It is described by travellers as being 
remarkable for the fertility of its soil, the vast growth and 
size of its timber, the boldness and sublimity of its scenery, 
and for its deep and dense dingles, or forest entanglements, 
which are almost impervious, not only to man and beast, 
but even to the rays of the sun. '1 hese are said to be 
gready infested with every species of deadly serpents, some 
of which are of frightful size and length. 

2. On this island is said to grow the famous poison tree 
called the Upas; the deadl}'' qualities of which, have often 
been made the subject of touching effusions both in prose 
and verse. It was a matter of some doubt for many years, 

11 



118 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

and probably still continues so in the minds of many, 
whether such a tree as the " Poison Upas" ever grew upon 
the Island of Java, or upon any other spot of earth. 

Some late traveller, however, professes to have seen the 
tree, and to have witnessed the effects of its poison upon two 
females suspected of treachery toward their prince. 

From the touch of a particle of the poison matter held on 
the point of a fine steel rod, to a puncture on the arm less 
even than the sting of a fly, almost instant death ensued, 
and with spasms, contortions, and convulsions too frightful 
for description. 

3. The tree is said to stand in a valley, surrounded on all 
sides by lofty hills; and that no plant nor shrub, nor other 
tree grows near it: that it instantly destroys the life of every 
thing that ventures within its tainted influence. Even inr 
nocent and unsuspecting birds, flying near its pestilential 
boughs, have been seen to drop dead beneath its shade. 

'J he Javian chiefs have long been in the practice of send- 
ing their convicts to this tree, as the most expeditious and 
certain means of execution; and, of the untoUl thousands 
that have been doomed to expiate their guilt by such foul 
embrace, no one has ever returned to recount his horrors, 
or describe the bleaching bones that whiten the ground amid 
the withered leaves of the Poison Upas, 

4, Upon the presumption that the story of the poison 
tree is no fiction, the poet has immortalised its memory, as 
well as his own poetical genius, in the following beautiful 
lines : — . 

Where seas of glass, with gay reflection smile. 
Round the green coast of Java's balmy isle. 
Soft zephyrs blow, eternal summers reign, 
And showers prolific, kiss the soil in vain. 

No spicy nutmeg, scents the vernal gales; 
No towering palm-tree, shades the mid-day vales; 
No flow'ry chaplet, crowns the limpid rills; 
No grassy mantle, shades the sable hills: — 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 119 

No step, returning, on the sand impress'd, 
Invites the visit of a second guest;— 
For there, in silence, on the blighted heath, 
Fell Upas grows: — the Hydra tree of death. 

Compiler. 

exercise iv, 

The Cataract. 

A Description of the Falls of Niagara. 

1. The Cataract of Niagara is probably one of the most 
sublime spectacles in the known world. There are few 
falls that have a more extended pilch; and none of such vast 
volume — that presents such an unbroken sheet from such a 
giddy heiglit. The river which feeds this fall, and which 
is the dividing line between the United States and Upper 
Canada, drains all the waters of the great northern lakes, 
into that of Ontario, which lies about two hundred feet 
below the w^aters of Lake Erie, the last in the upper chain; 
the whole fall, therefore, is about that distance.! 

2. The river, a little above Goat Island^ which divides 
the stream into two parts, and which, at its head, marks the 
first bend of the water from a perfect level, and an accelerated 
motion forward, is about a mile over; but much the largest 
portion of the stream runs west of the island, and along the 
Canada shore. From this first dropping of the water from 
a level, the fall actually commences; and it continues for 
lialf a mile, constantly falling, constantly increasing in mo- 
tion, and constanUy progressing in agitation, until, from a 
smooth placid face, in which the heavens are clearly mir- 
rored, the whole surface assumes a most splendid foam, 
piled like a thousand little snowy mounds, constantly burst- 
ing and varying like a magic lantern. 

t The height of the fall, the breadth of the river, and some other 
particulars here stated, rest for accuracy upon mere estimate from 
observation, and not on actual admeasurement or a resort to other 
sources of information. 



120 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

3. This is the most beautiful and fascinating part of the 
splendid panorama; the play of the water toward the head 
of the island, takes deep hold of the spectator's senses; — ite 
activity begets corresponding emotions, and he feels almost 
impelled to plunge in and mingle with the whirl. Follow- 
ing the stream, he comes at last, amidst a shower of spray 
and a thundering roar, to the great pitch. Here, looking 
into the broad curve, or horse-shoe, toward which the stream, 
maddened into fury, seems to have collected its whole ma- 
jesty, he sees the waters piled up, on the very verge of the 
giddy precipice, and, like a thing of life, apparently looking 
into the abyss, before it takes the leap. Then down it 
plunges, and carries with it a vast amount of atmospheric 
air, which, as the water in its deep descent separates into 
columns, becomes released, and plays the fitful storm with- 
out control. 

4. No human eye can follow the stream into the gulf 
where the pitch is stayed; but it soon reappears in froth and 
foam, rolling off in sullen and slackened force, as though 
all its energies had been expended in making the frightful 
plunge. The spray rises to the clouds, and falls in gentle 
showers, in which, when the sun shines, myriads of rain- 
bows dance, and mock suns hold their court. But the most 
splendid spectacle is presented in the winter season, when 
the spray falls and freezes upon the surrounding woods. 
Then each limb and twig, is gemmed with counUess glitter- 
ing globes, which sparkle in the sun like so many radiant 
worlds. 

5. But words are too poor to give the picture its due 
effect. The efforts of the pencil are lost upon it. If sketched 
in parcels, the effect is divided and identity endangered; 
and if taken as a whole, proportion fails and space becomes 
too limited. To know the whole, to behold its majesty, 
and to feel its full effect, it must be seen and compared 
with the other things of nature. But then in the presence 
of this stupendous display of rushing waters, bellowing 
winds, dashing froth and foam, and spattering spray, no 
man can at once realise his feelings; — no one can portray 
the deep sensations that thrill his soul, and awaken his ap- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 121 

prehensions for his personal safety, or his own comparative 
littleness. 

6. The deep and dark gulf, through which the river, 
when tlie leap is over and the march renewed, rolls off to the 
lower lake, lias evidently been made by the force of the 
water. The cataract was originally about seven miles lo the 
north of its present location; but through the lapse of many 
ages, the force of the water has washed the soil, and its 
ceaseless friction has worn the rock, to where it now holds 
combat with beautiful Goat Island. But the stream will un- 
doubtedly conquer; — for every day takes something from the 
crumbling battlements, and ages hence, the place of the fall 
will be where Buffalo now stands. 

7. The wearing of the channel through the solid rock is 
beautifully described by the poet Brainard in the following 
excellent lines, supposed to have been written while his 
eye rested on the *' Bold Babbler." 

The thoughts are strange that crowd into my brain, 

While I look up to thee. It would seem 

As if God pour'd thee from his '' hollow hand," 

And hung his bow upon thy awful from; — 

And spoke in that loud voice, which seem'd to him 

Who dwelt on Patmos for his SaviouVs sake. 

The ** sound of many waters;" and bade thy flood 

To chronicle the ages back, and 

Notch His centuries in the eternal rock. 

Deep calleth unto deep. And what are we 
That hear the question of that voice sublime? 
Oh what are all the notes that ever rung 
From war's vain trumpet, by thy thundering side! 
Yes, what is all the riot men can make 
In this short life, to thy unceasing roar! 
And yet, bold babbler, what art thou to Him, 
Who drown'd a world, and heap'd the waters far 
Above its lofty mountains? A light wave, 
That breaks and whispers of its Maker's praise. 

Compiler. 
II* 



12^ THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

exercise v- 

Menalcus and Justus, 

The calm Content of a ShephenVs Life, 

1. Menalcus was a youthful shepherd; — Temperance 
marked his life, and health glowed in his face. The morn- 
ing lark cheered him with her early note, and the nightin- 
gale lulled his evening repose. Through the day he guarded 
his flocks, which speckled the hill and the vale, and at night 
he gathered them to their fold. As he was one day looking 
for a lamb that had strayed from his care, he saw, lying at 
the root of a tree, deep in the thick and shady wood, a 
hunter, pale with hunger and fatigue, and ready to Aiint. 

2. The shepherd immediately stepped forward, and raised 
the sufferer's head. "Alas! my friend," said the pale man, 
'* three days since I entered this wood in pursuit of game, 
and have lost my way. I have not been able to find one 
vestige of human footsteps, nor the least portion of food to 
answer the demands of nature; and I had lain down by this 
tree to die alone in this frightful solitude. I am faint with 
hunger, and my lips are parched with thirst; — O give me 
relief, or 1 die!" 

3. Menalcus raised the famished hunter in his arms, and 
refreshed him with bread from his scrip, and milk from his 
pewter canteen. He afterwards led the bewildered invalid 
through the mazes of the forest, and placed him in safety 
on the high road which led to the city. When the hunter 
saw that Menalcus was about to take his leave, he stopped 
him. *' Shepherd," said he, '* you found me bewildered, 
faint with fasting, and ready to die; you raised me up, sup- 
plied my wants, and saved my life; now let me make yours 
happy. Go with me to the city. You shall live no longer 
in a cottage, but in a palace; the coarse bread in your scrip, 
shall give place to dainty viands on plates of silver, and the 
milk in your pewter canteen, shall be exchanged for spark- 
ling wine in goblets of gold." 

4. " Why should I go to the city^" said Menalcus. *' My 
little home shelters me from the rains of summer, and the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 123 

winds of winter. To be sure, it has no marble pillars about 
it, but then it has plenty of fruit trees; and from these I 
gather my morning repast; — And can any thing be more 
pure and sparkling than the little brook that ripples by my 
door? From my garden I cull roses, and from the valley I 
bring lilies, and with these I decorate my table. Are they 
not sweeter than costly viands upon plates of silver, and 
more beautiful than wine in goblets of gold? I eat my brown 
bread and drink my new milk; my flocks supply me with 
covering, and my life is sustained without the sacrifice of 
the blood of any creature." 

5. ** But, Shepherd," said Justus, '' if you will go with 
me to the city, I will lead you through gardens bedecked 
with flowers and cooled with fountains; you shall behold 
women whose dazzling beauty the sun never tarnished, and 
who glitter in silks and diamonds; and you shall hear music, 
whose mellow notes shall soothe and enchant you." 

"Our sun-burnt girls," said Menalcus, ''are very hand- 
some. How lovely they look on holidays, when, wreathed 
wath garlands of flowers, they dance to the pipe beneath the 
shade of the broad-branched oak, or retire to the w^oods to 
hear the song of the thrush! Is your music better than the 
song of the linnet, the robin, or the nightingale? Ah! no — 
1 cannot go to the city." 

6. '*Then," said Justus, *'take this bag of gold, and sup- 
ply all your wants," " Your gold," returned the shepherd, 
'* is of no use to me. My fruit trees, my graden, my brook, 
and my flocks, supply all my wants. What use have I for 
gold?" "But you have saved my life," said the hunter, 
"and I wish to reward your kindness; — what will you ac- 
cept?" "Give me the horn that hangs at your belt," said 
Menalcus; " it will be more durable than my earthen pitcher." 
Justus took the horn from his belt, with a smile of benignity, 
and, presenting it to the shepherd, wished he might be al- 
ways happy. Menalcus took the present with a low bow, 
and turned on his heel toward his cottage. 

7. At that moment. Contentment came up, and whis- 
pered in the ear of the astonished hunter, the following 
lines: — 



124 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Far from the city, I reside, 
And my white cot, is all my pride; 
True to my choice, I never roam. 
For all my joys, lie round my home. 

I ask myself, at fall of night, 
If all my deeds, by day, are right; 
If right, re{)lies an honest breast, 
I smile, and close my eyes to rest. 

Then, with the sun, or with the dawn, 
I rise, and pace the dewy lawn; 
My early gift, on morn's young breath, 
Ascends to Him who gives me health. 

Then, in a round of duties sweet, 
That day, and all life's days, I meet; 
And when stern fate shall bid me die, 
I'll leave my cot without a sigh. 

Compiler. 

exercise vi. 

The Summer will return; but to whom? 

Is there not an appointed time to Man upon earth? 

1. Then thou art gone, bright and beautiful Summer! — 
gone with all thy green leaves, and fragrant roses; — gone to 
visit the regions of the earth, and be summer to other climes. 
Thou hast cast thy flowery honors to the winds, and they 
are withering on the lap of earth. But thoii wilt return 
again in renewed sweetness; thou wilt gather thy beauties 
afresh, and adorn our valleys and groves with a renovated 
dress. But shall I be here when thou shalt again fan the 
world with thy soft southern breath? Oh! who may tell. 

2. And thou, bright and joyous Spring, shall I again look 
upon thy sunny hours? Shall I see thee when thy soft 
breath shall break up the rude frosts of winter — unlock the 
icy fetters that binds the river in his course, and let loose 
the wild and gushing brook from its marble prison? Shall 



. THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 125 

I then be here to pkick thy first blossoms, and wander over 
the moor and the meadow^ Ah! who can tell! Yes, who 
can look into the secrets of coming time, and assure me that 
I shall be here? Some hidden blow from without, some 
secret disease within, or some unseen shaft from the hani^ 
of Him who fashioned this frail frame, may bear me hence, 
to behold no more the brightness of spring or the beauties 
of summer. 

3. The spring and the summer may return; the song of 
the bird may again cheer the grove; and the hum of the bee 
may be heard in the breeze; but they will not meet the eye 
nor greet the ear of thousands who now feel that the spring 
and the summer are once more gone. 

And those who thus depart — those who once go down 
from the song of the bird, the hum of the bee, and the beau- 
ties and sweets of the seasons, return not till the heavens be 
no more; — they shall not awake, nor be raised out of their 
sleep. They go as all the friends of my youth have gone; — 
they pass as the fond partners of my early hopes and hap- 
piness have passed; — and they will leave the bosoms of 
thousands desolate, even as mine is lone and forsaken. Man 
cannot live forever; for to him there is an appointed time on 
the earth, and his days are numbered. 

4. Who then would not rather choose to die than to live, 
when all the ties that bind him to this world have been 
cruelly severed? When affections are blasted; when the 
stream of life is chilled by the frost of years; when the brow 
is channelled with the furrows of age; when the rude hand 
of time has plucked all the flowers of beauty, and whitened 
the hairs for the tomb, why do we cling to the earth? why 
do we fear the cold embrace that sets us free, and bids us 
live in a better world? 

"I would not live always; I wish not to stay 
Where storm after storm, rises dark o'er the way; 
The ^ew lurid moments that dawn on us here, 
Are enough for life's woes — full enough for its cheer." 



126 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE VII. 

The Four Seasons, 
" The Seasons have voices which summon us to thought." 

1. The revolving year, the change of seasons, and the 
wax and wane of moons, touch the reflecting mind with | 
serious awe, and are felt as a warning voice designed to . 
summon thought and sober reflection. Each season as it 
rises, seems to admonish man of the complexion of the 
thoughts and feelings which its presence should inspire, and 
of the food upon which his mind should feed. 

From the first openings of spring, to the dreary desola- 
tions of winter, each day is a striking emblem of the con- 
dition of man and the duties that devolve upon him; and 
whatever maybe the stage of his journey — whether in youth, 
manhood, or declining age, he can seldom look up into the 
heavens and mark the march of the sun, the moon, or the 
stars, without feeling something to animate him in his course, 
or to reprove him for his delay. 

2. When the spring appears; — when the tree puts forth 
its bursting buds — the earth is clothed with tender green, 
and the song of happiness is heard in every shade — it calls 
him to thought — to true devotion, to sober joy, and to holy 
hope. Over the infant year, the balmy breath of heaven, 
blows with refreshing sweetness and paternal softness, and 
the heart of man were marble, did it not partake in the joy 
of awaking nature. 

Then too when summer reigns; — when every element is 
filled with life; — when all nature is rife with beauty and 
redolent with perfume; — when the sun, with sturdy march, 
pursues his course along the azure firmament, and fills the 
world with a lioly jubilee, then is the season of adoration. 
Man then looks upon the majesty of a present Deity; and 
M'herever he turns his eye, the glory of the Lord seems to 
cover the earth as the waters cover the deep. 

3. When autumn comes, and the annual miracle of nature 
is completed, when the nodding sheaf is gathered, the golden 
ear is plucked, and the harvest is home, then is the season 



THE JUVExMLE ORATOR. 1:27 

of thanksgiving and song; then the sonl bends with in- 
stinctive gratitude before Him whose bounty has no stint, 
whose care never sleeps, and who, from the habitation of his 
glory, remembers the wants of the things upon the earth. 
And then the season of winter, with all its frowns, and frosts, 
and fleecy snows, has also its peculiar lessons. To the man 
of thought and feeling, iliey are read not in vain; the winds 
bring blessings on their wings, and scatter down upon the 
naked and the needy. In this dark and cheerless season, 
the fountains of the heart are opened, and charity goes forth 
to bless the suffering sons of want. 

• 4. I love the Spring; — its breath of balm, 
Gives garden, field, and wood a charm; 
And hangs the pearly dew of morn. 
Like sparkling gems on leaf and thorn. 
Vll would not choose a year of bloom. 
Though violet beds were made my home. 

Summer I love; and love to rove. 

At early day, mid leafy grove; 

Sit in the shade near babbling brook. 

And see the trout evade the hook. 

Yet would not choose a year to pass. 
Mid scorching rays from skies of brass. 

I love the Fall; — its soft blue sky, 
And yellow leaf, delight the eye; 
Its golden quince, and purple grape. 
Rejoice the soul — in every shape; 

Yet would not choose, though mild and gay, 

A year of unrenew'd decay. 

Winter I bear; — its bellowing breath, 
Drives myriads to a frosty death; 
Its noon-tide sun scarce shows his face. 
Then shrouds his beams in dark disgrace. 
- I could not bide, the live-long year, 
A polar sky and frosty sphere. 

Compiler, 



128 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE VIII. 
AWKVTARDNESS. 

Affectation^ not native ease, constitutes Awkwardness, 

1. Man, says Professor Wilson, is the most awkward 
animal that inhales the breath of life. There is nothing-, 
however simple, which he performs with any tolerable de- 
gree of ease or gracefulness. If he walks, he jiwups, limps, 
or creeps; if he sits, he fidgets, locks his legs under his 
chair, or his arms over tlie back of it, and puts himself in a 
fever trying to be at ease. We sometimes go to a ball, 
rather to see and be seen than to act. And there behold a 
man, of some tliirty-five or forty years of ag-e, with legs 
like gate-posts, standing in the middle of the room, twirling 
his glove, gaping to the right and left, and looking very 
much like a mourner at his grandmother's burial. 

2. Then, at a given signal, this unwieldy animal puts 
himself in motion. He throv/s out his arms, crouches up 
?iis shoulders, and, without moving a muscle of his face, 
kicks out his legs, like a frolicksome hind, to the imminent 
danger of all the by-standers. After ten or fifteen minutes 
sprawl and shuffle, he gets back to the place of his first 
starting, puffing and blowing like a plough-poney at a scrub ^ 
race. Now is this what you call dancing? — Can this be a 
specimen of that art which gives elasticity to the very clown? 
Which sends the blood in full flow? — the heart in extatic 
palpitation? and which makes beauty float before us, ravish- 
ing our very senses — stealing our admiraiion — and thrilling 
the soul with new delight, and new love? No; — it is not 
dancinjT, but the wild gambols of a large baboon. 

3. Man meets his fellow-man, and as a token of friendly 
recognition, they shake hands. In doing this, can he not 
withdraw his hand and let it fall by his side where nature 
and good breeding both direct it? Does he imagine the 
pocket of his small clothes, the only proper place into 
which his daddle may be pushed? Or does he thrust it 
there to guard his last half-crown from the rapacity of a 
creeping tip-staff*? 

One would suppose that it were not too much to expect 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 129 

that a man miorht learn to drink a glass of wine with a fair 
lady'with a tolerably good grace. But does lie ever do il? 
See! — in the first place, how he grasps the decanter to fill 
his glass; — leaving the misty marks of all his sweaty fingers 
on the glittering crystal, which should be left as pure and 
spotless as Cornelia's hime. 

4. Mark [low the animal seizes his glass! Were it not 
flint, he would break it into a thousand fragments. See 
how he bows his lubberly head to meet the sparkling draught 
half way! See how he gugj^les the precious beverage down 
his rattling gullet, and chucks down tlie glass as though its 
contents had been jalap! Call you this the polite way of 
taking a glass of wine with a lady? — Indeed it is too aw- 
fully piggish. It has been said that every man behaves with 
some degree of awkwardness when he is in love; and that 
the absence of the one is a fair warrant that the other does 
not exist. But w^hen the passion rages, it undoubtedly 
creates embarrassment; it is nevertheless wonderful to ob- 
serve, how soon the most nervous, regain their accustomed 
ease, after marriage has concluded all their hopes and fears, 

exercise ix. 

The Prisoner. 

The Contrast hetioeen Liberty and Slavery. 

1. Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, slavery, still thou 
art a bitter draught; and although thousands, in all ages, 
have been made to drink of thee, thou art not the less bitter 
on that account. It is thou, Liberty, thrice sweet and 
gracious goddess, to whom all bend the knee, in public or 
in private; whose taste is grateful, and ever will be so, until 
nature herself shall change. No tint of words can spot thy 
showy mantl^ or chemic power, turn thy sceptre into iron. 
With thee, to smile upon him as he eats his crust, the swain 
is happier than his monarch, from whose court thou art 
exiled. Gracious heaven! grant me but health, thou great 
bestovver of it, and give me this fair goddess for my com- 
panion, and shower down thy mitres, if it seem good to thy 
Divine Providence, npon those heads that ache for them. 
12 



130 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

2. Pursuing these ideas, I sat down close to my table, 
and leaning my head upon my hand, began to figure to my- 
self the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame of 
mind for it; and so I gave full scope to my imagination. I 
was going to begin with the millions born to no other in- 
heritance but slavery; but finding that however afTecting the 
picture might be I could not bring it near me; the multitudes 
of sad groups in it, merely distracted me. 

3. I took a single captive, and, having first shut him up 
in a dungeon,! then looked through the twilight of jiis grated 
door, to take his picture. I beheld his body half wasted 
away with long expectation and confinement, and felt what 
that sickness of heart is, which arises from hope deferred. 
Upon looking nearer, T saw him pale and feverish: in thirty 
years, the western breeze had not once fanned his blood; he 
had seen no sun — no moon in all that time, nor had the 
soothing voice of friend or kindred, once breathed through 
his iron lattice. His children — — But here my heart be- 
gan to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part 
of the portrait. 

4. He was sitting upon the ground, in the farthest corner 
of his dungeon, on a little straw, which was alternately his 
chair and his bed; a little calendar of small sticks was laid 
at the head, notched all over with the dismal days and nights 
which he had passed in this dreary cell; he had one of these 
little sticks in his hand, and, with a rusty nail, was etching 
another day to augment the heap. As I darkened the little 
liglit which reflected through his only grate, he lifted a 
hopeless eye toward the door, then cast it down, shook his 
head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his 
chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little 
stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh; — I saw the 
iron enter his soul, and I burst into tears. I could not sus- 
tain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn. 

5. And this place our fathers made for man! 
This is the process of our love and wisdom, 
'J'o catch poor Brother, who oflfends against us — 
Most innocent, perhaps: — and what if guilty? 
Is this the only cure? O merciful Gud ! 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 131 

Each pore and natural outlet shriveU'd up, 

By ignorance and pinching poverty, 

His energies roll back upon his heart, 

And stagnate and corrupt, till chang'd to poison. 

They break out upon him like a loathsome plague-spot. 

Here he lies, circled wiih evil, till his 

Very soul unmoulds its essence; — hopelessly deform'd, 

By fellowship with desperate deformity. 

Sterne, 

EXERCISE X. 

Love of Immortality, 
" All wish to l*ave behind them some remembrancer." 

1. Upon the tree whose spreading branches have screened 
him from the rays of the sun, or sheltered him from the 
summer shower, the lowly peasant carves his name, as a 
register for his successors. The passing traveller, etches 
his, in rude lines, upon the rock from whose lofty pinnacle 
he has looked down with awe upon woods, and fields, and 
meandering streams. It is registered there for the eyes of 
those, whose venturous foot, when he is gone, shall dare the 
giddy height. Thus, too, the loiterer and the traveller on 
life's brief journey, would gladly leave some memorial be- 
hind ihem, which shall show the world that comes after 
them, that they once had a part. 

2. This desire of perpetuating a name — of giving it im- 
mortality — and w^hich, if not natural, seems to be universal, 
is, when rightly directed, of highly important results to the 
welfare of mankind; for, although names are not always 
rendered immortal by such efforts, the efforts themselves 
ofien render much good. The perpetuity given to a name, 
by the possession of riches, is generally the least effective; 
that which is conferred by titles, is but little better: — 

'* Go search the tombs where monarchs rest, 

Who once the greatest titles bore; 
The wealth and glory they possess'd, 

And all their honors are no more," 



133 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

3. Wealth may help to gratify the passions, and pamper 
the flesh, upon which, in the end, the earthworm feeds; 
weaUh may build palaces and castles, and rear towers; but 
the next generation levels them with the dustj — they are all 

^one like monuments in Potter's Field. He therefore who 
boasteih himself in riches is soon forgotten; — in the very 
strife for a division of his hoarded treasures, his name and 
his memory are trampled under foot ! 

** But yesterday, and Cesar's name would stand against 
the world; — now none so poor as to do him reverence.'"' 
And what was true of Cesar, is true of all men who build 
on wealth or honor. 

4. How then shall man perpetuate his name and make 
his memory blessed? Let him write I^s history in deeds 
of beneficence and mercy, and his name shall live after the 
marble that covers his clay shall have fretted to dust. While 
there are the sick to be healed, the naked to be clothed, the 
ignorant to be taught, the vicious to be reclaimed, or the 
heathen to be converted, every man may rear a monument 
to his name which shall flourish like a green bay-tree, when 
the memory of heroes shall have passed off like the morning 
cloud. The laurel of the victor withers; but the wreath of 
the philanthropist blooms forever. 

5. The memory of Napoleon, one of the mightiest of the 
mighty, is fast fading from human recollection; — and year 
after year, is rapidly erasing the lines he drew upon the des- 
tinies of Europe; but the memory of Robert Raikes, is 
every year growing brighter; — for his deeds are written ia 
the moral history of the world. 

The glory of Bonaparte, like a flaming meteor, glared 
wildly at the battle of Austerlitz, but it sunk at the island 
of St. Helena, and the light which marked its path, is rapidly 
vanishing into darkness. The glory of Robert Raikes, rose 
mildly and lovely as the morning sun; — it is still rising; — 
and ages will roll away before it reaches its meridian height. 
There, fixed like the sun of Joshua, it will stand until the 
trump of the archangel shall proclaim that " Time shall be 
no more." Compiler. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 133 

exercise xi. 

Precepts for Youth. 

The Teacher'' s Address to his Scholars. 

1. My young friends, this is the proper season for the 
cultivation of the benevolent and humane affections. Should 
you, at tliis period of life, neglect these, be assured that 
those of an opposite character will take root, and introduce 
a train of vices whose effects will follow you through life 
and beyond the grave; aye, into eternity. 

2. With the affections of benevolence, cultivate also the 
social affections; — they lighten toil, alleviate care, sweeten 
enjoyments, and double every blessing. All your hopes of 
social happiness must rest principally on the connections 
you form in society; — the domestic relations you hold, and 
the quiet of your own fireside. Hence, it will be of vast 
importance, that you early acquire an equanimity of temper, 
an easy and pleasing address, and a fund of useful know- 
ledge, all of which will contribute to give you a fair claim 
to an eligible choice, and a reasonable prospect of happiness. 

3. Let a deep sense of integrity, a constant regard to pro- 
priety, and an unbending love of justice, be the broad found- 
ation of all your social and moral qualities. Engrave on 
your minds — once for all — the sacred rule of doing to others 
as you would that others should do to you. In the strict 
observance of this '' Golden Rule," you will derive great 
assistance by establishing in your mind the belief of the 
original and natural equality of man; — then whatever ad- 
vantage of education or fortune you may chance to possess, 
will never be displayed for mere self-gratification. 

4. Remember how utterly unknown to you are all the 
vicissitudes of life. How often those, upon whom ignorant 
and contemptut)us youth have looked down with scorn, have, 
in after life, risen above them in all that makes existence 
useful, and society desirable. What a lesson should this 
consideration be to thoughtless arrogance and supercilious 
pride ! 

Compassion is an emotion of the soul, of which you 
12* 



134 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

should never be ashamed. Graceful in youth is the tear of 
sympathy, and the heart that melts at the tale of wo: — then 
stop noi your ears against the cries of want, nor harden your 
heart ao^ainst the calamities of the innocent. 

5. When the fatherless, in the day of distress, call upon 
you for relief — when the widow's heart sickens and sinks 
witliln her, and she lifts up the voice for aid — put on the 
bowels of tenderness toward them; — reach forth your hand 
to the deposite of Him who has given you all things, and 
draw thence for their succor and support. Let neither ease 
nor indulgence contract your affections, nor warp your mind 
to mere selfish enjoyments. Waste not life in idle vagaries 
of fancy, but direct the energies of both body and mind to 
the improvement of your talents, the promotion of piety and 
the happiness of mankind. 

6. Happy the youth whose cautious steps, 

Still keep the golden mean; 
W hose life by wisdom's rule is form'd; 
Whose heart and hands are clean. 

He, of himself, ne'er highly thinks, 

Nor acts the boaster's part; 
His modest lip the language speaks, 

Of his more modest heart. 

The wealth which Providence bestows, 

He takes with thankful heart; 
With temperance he eats and drinks, 

And gives the poor a part. 

His love is not on this world placed; — . 

His treasures lie above; 
And nought below the greatest good, 

Can claim his highest love. 

exercise xii. 
The Objects of Study. 
Remarks on the Objects of Study. 
1. Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for utility. 



THE JUVENILE ORA.TOR. 135 

Their chief use for delight, is confined lo tlie closet and to 
privaie life; for ornament, it refers to instructive conversa- 
tion; and for utility, it aids the judgment, and ripens for the 
despatch of business. For expert men can execute, and 
perhaps judge of particulars, one by one; but the deep coun- 
cils, the intricate plots, and the arrangement of affiiirs, are 
best executed by men of learning. 

2. 'J'o spend too much time in studies, is a species of 
sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is mere affecta- 
tion; and to form a judgment wholly by their rules, is no- 
thing more than the whim of the scholar. Studies which 
are perfected only by severe application and long experience, 
contribute, in every respect, lo perfect nature; for natural 
abilities are like natural plants, they need pruning by disci- 
pline and duty; and studies, unless directed by experience 
and prudence, often take an unprofitable direction, or a gene- 
ral promiscuous scope. 

3. Crafty men despise studies; simple men admire and 
applaud them, and wise men use them: — for they teach not 
their own use, but they teach what it is to be wise without 
them, and even wise above them: — A wisdom which is only 
to be won by observation and reflection. Studies, therefore, 
have a higher object than simply to arm abilities to dispute 
and refute; or to believe and receive all that is said to be 
true; or to furnish them with the means of agreeable and 
brilliant conversation: — Their great aim is to clothe abilities 
with the power of weighing, comparing, adjusting, arranging, 
and digesting, the insulated morsels of wisdom which lie 
scattered through all past ages. 

4. Some books are to be read only in detached parts; — 
some only in a cursory manner; — while a few must be read 
wholly and slowly — with diligence, fixed attention, and 
deep, broad thought and reflection. 

Reading makes a full man, conversation makes a ready 
man, and writing makes an exact man — therefore, if a man 
read but little, he should possess much cunning; — this will 
enable him to seem to know things of which he is in reality 
> entirely ignorant; — if he converse but Hide, he should have 
a great share of present wit, which will give him a similar 



13G THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

advantage; — and if he write but little, he should possess a 
good memory; — for it will save him an age of labor. 

5. Remote from cities liv'd a swain, y 

Unvex'd with all the cares of gain: 
His head was silver'd o'er with age, 

And long experience made him sage. 
A deep philosopher, whose rules 

Of moral life were drawn from schools, 
The shepherd's homely cottage sought. 

And thus explor'd his reach of thought. 
"Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil 

O'er books, consum'd the midnight oil? 
Hast thou old Greece and Rome survey 'd, 

And the vast sense of Plato weigh'd? 
Hath Socrates thy soul refin'd? 

And hast thou fathom'd Tully's mmd? 
The shepherd modestly replied, 

I ne'er the paths of learning tried; 
Pride often guides the author's pen; 

Books as affected are, as men. 

Lord Bacon. 

exercise xiii. 

Ways of Getting Knowledge. 

The different modes of acquiring human knowledge. 

1. There are Five principal methods by which man ac- 
quires knowledge: — Reading, Observation, Lectures, Con- 
versation, and Meditation. Each of these has its peculiar 
advantages, but all of them may be employed to profitable 
purpose; — indeed all of them are necessary to form a gene- 
ral mind accomplished in particular and general knowledge. 

Reading is the method by which we become acquainted 
with what others have thought and written. This is a source 
of vast importance, and may be drawn upon without stint. 
The arts of writino^ and reading have had a wonderful in- 
fluence in "the improvement of the condition of man and his 
advancement in knowledge. 

2. By observation, we learn that fire burns, the sun shines, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 137 

the grass grows, the body dies, and that one generation suc- 
ceeds another. All those things wfiich we see, hear, taste, 
and feel, or which come to the understanding without the 
help of retiection, or the reasoning powers, are derived 
through tliis channel. Hence, observation is nothing more 
than the notice we take of the objects around us, and the 
occurrences of life. It brings us a greater number and a 
richer variety of ideas, proportions, words, and phrases than 
either of the other modes; and it also operates earlier and 
continues later than either of the others. 

3. Lectures are the verbal instructions given by a teacher 
while the haarer remains silent. Such is the knowledge 
conveyed from the pulpit, the forum, and the professional 
chair; and, to an attentive hearer, it is a source of rich im- 
provement. 

Conversation i^^ also a prolific source from which the 
mind draws improvement, and the stock of ideas is increas- 
ed. By mutual discourse and inquiry, we learn the senti- 
ments and opinions of others, and communicate our own; — 
hence, the benefit is mutual, and often the means of high 
rational entertainment. It is also cheap, and but for the 
vain pride of man, might be more generally enjoyed. 

4. Meditation includes those exercises of the mind by 
which we render the other modes of acquiring knowledge 
more extensively useful. It helps to perfect our attainments, 
mature the mind, and ripen the judgment. Through this 
medium, we adjust, class, arrange, and compare the assort- 
ment which constitutes our stock; and we confirm our re- 
membrance of incidents, and our acquaintance with particu- 
lars. By this, too, we draw certain inferences, fix certain 
principles, and establish certain conclusions; and by this, we 
extend the thread of reason, search and find out deep and 
difficult truths, and lay hitlden things open to the compre- 
hension of ordinary intellect. 

5. There was a man, large of understanding, 
Of memory infinite, of judgment deep; — 
He knew all learning, and all science knew; 
And all the phenomena of heaven and earth, 
Traced to iheir causes; traced the labyrinths 



138 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Of thought, association, passion, will; 

And all the subtle, nice affinities 

Of matter, traced its virtues, motions, laws; 

And most familiarly and deeply talked 

Of mental, moral, natural, divine. 

Leaving the earth at will, he soared to heaven, 

And read the glorious visions of the skies; 

And to the music of the rolling spheres, 

Intelligendy listened; — and gazed far back, 

Into the awful depths of Deity; — 

Did all that mind, assisted most, could do; — 

And yet in misery he lived, and miserably died — 

And why? — he wanted holiness of heart! 

Watts. 

exercise xiv. 

The Sabbath Day of Freedom. 

Oration^ July 4th, 1825, at Boston, 

1. Why, on this day, lingers along the sacred wall, the 
spirit kindling anthem? Why, on this day, waits the herald 
of God at the altar, to utter forth his holy prayer? Why, 
on this day, congfregate the wise, the good, and the beautiful 
of the land? Fathers, Friends, it is the Sabbath Day of 
Freedom! The race of the ransomed, with grateful hearts 
and exulting voices, have again come up, in the sunlight of 
peace, to the Jubilee of Independence! 

2. To the pious, who, in these once deserted regions, 
built a city of refuge, no less than to the brave, who, around 
that city, reared a wall of safety, do we owe the blessings 
of this day. To enjoy and perpetuate religious freedom, 
the sacred herald of civil liberty, they forsook their native 
land, where the f(ml spirit of persecution was up in its fury, 
and where many had long wept at the enormities pepetrated 
in the abused names of Jehovah and Jesus. Resist unto 
blood blind zealots had found in the Bible, and lamentably 
indeed did they fulfil the command. 

3. With ''Thus saith the Lord," the engines of cruelty 
were set in motion, and many a martyr's spirit, like the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 139 

asv-^.ending prophet from Jordan's bank, escaped in fire to 
heaven. It was in this night of time, when the incubus of 
bigolr3^sat heavy on the human soul; — 

"When crown and crosier rul'd a coward world, 

And menial darkness o'er the nations curl'd; 

When, wrapt in sleep, earth's torpid children lay, 

Hugg'd their vile chains, and dream'd their age away; 

'Twas then, by faith impell'd, by freedom iir'd, 

By hope supported, and by God inspir'd: 

'Twas llien the Pilgrims left their fathers' graves, 

To seek a home beyond the waste of waves; 

And where it rose, all rough and wintry here, 

They svvell'd devotion's song, and dropp'd devotion's tear. 

4. Can we sufficiently admire the firmness of that little 
brotherhood, thus self-banished from their country? Un- 
kind and cruel, it is true, but still their country! There 
they were born, and there, when the lamp of life was lighted, 
they had hoped it would go out. There a father's hand had 
led them, a mother's smile had warmed them. There 
were the haunts of their boyish days — their kinsfolks, their 
friends, their recollections, their all. Yet all was left; even 
while their heart-strings bled at the parting, all was left; — 
and a stormy sea, a savage waste, and a fearful destiny, 
were encountered — for heaven and for you! 

5. The breeze has swell'd the whitening sail; 
The blue waves curl beneath the gale; 
And, bounding with the surge and wind, 
We leave Old England's coasts behind. 

We leave behind our native shore, 
And homes, and all we lov'd before. 

For we would rather never be. 

Than dwell where mind cannot be free; 

But bows beneath a despot's rod. 

E'en where it seeks to worship God! 

Ye blasts of heaven, onward sweep, 
And bear us o'er the stormy deep. 



140 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

6. Eeliold what wonders meet our eyes! 

Another land, and other skies! 

CoUimbia's monntains catch our view! 

Adieu! Old England's shores, adieu! 
For here at last, our feet shall rest, 
Our minds be free, our homes be blest. 

Now to the King of kings we'll raise 

A paean loud of sacred praise; — 

Louder than sounds the swelling breeze; 

Louder than roars the rolling seas! 

For f^iirer lands have met our view: — 
Old England's shores — a long ^^dieu! 

C. Sprague, 

exercise xv. 

General La Fayette. 

A Tribute to La Fayette's Visit to America. 

1. When we bring our offerings for the mighty of our 
own land, shall we not remember the chivalrous spirit of 
other shores who shared with them the fiours of weakness 
and wo? Pile to the clouds the majestic columns of giory; 
let the lips of those who can speak well, hallow each spot 
where the bold repose; but forget not those who, with your 
bold, went out to the battle. 

Among those men of noble daring, was one, a young and 
gallant stranger, who left the blushing vine-hills of his own 
delightful country, and bared his arm with our bold and 
brave. 

2. The people whom he came to succor, were not his 
people; he knew them only in the story of their oppressions 
and the weight of their wrongs. lie was no mercenary 
wretcli, striving for the spoils of the vanquished; the palace 
owned him for its lord, and the vallies gave him their in- 
crease. He was no nameless man, staking life for reputa- 
tion; he ranked among nobles, and looked una wed upon 
kings. He was no friendless outcast, seeking a grave to 
hide his cold heart; — he was encircled by the companions 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 141 

of his youth; his kinsmen were about — his wife was before 
him. 

3. Yet from all these, he turned away and came. Like 
ihe lofty tree that shakes down its green glories to battle 
with the winter storm, he flung aside the trappings of place 
and pride, and crusaded for freedom in freedom's holy land. 
He came; — but not in the day of successful rebellion; — not 
when llie new-risen sun of independence had burst the cloud 
of time, and careered to its place in the heavens. He came 
when darkness curtained the hills and the tempest was abroad 
in its anger; when the plough stood still in the field of 
promise, and bri::rs encumbered the garden of beauty; — 
when fathers were dying, and mothers were weeping over 
them; — when the wife was binding up the gashed bosom of 
her husband, and the maiden was wiping the death damp 
from the brow of her lover. — He came when the brave be- 
gan to fear the power of man, and the pious to doubt the 
favor of God. 

4. It was then that this one joined the ranks of a revolted 
people. Freedom's little phalanx bade him welcome. With 
them he courted the battle's rage; with them his arm was 
lifted; with them his blood was spilled. Long and doubtful 
was the conflict. At length kind heaven smiled on our good 
cause, and the foiled invaders fled: — the profane were driven 
from the temple of liberty, and at her pure shrine, the pil- 
grim warrior with his beloved commander knelt down and 
worshipped. Leaving his oflering there — the incense of an 
iincorrupted spirit, he at length rose up, and, crowned with 
ihe benedictions of a grateful people, he turned his soldier 
tread toward his long-neglected home. 

5. Now, after nearly fifty years, that one has come again. 
Can mortal tongue tell — can mortal heart feel, the sublimity 
of this coming? Exulting millions rejoice in it, and their 
loud, long, transporting shout, like the mingling of many 
waters, roll on undying to freedom's distant mountains. A 
congregated nation come round him; — old men bless him 
and children reverence him; — the lovely come out to look 
upon him — the learned deck their halls to greet him — and 
the rulers of the land rise up to do him homage. 

6. How his full heart labors! He views the rusting 

13 



/ 



142 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

trophies of departed days, or treads the high places where 
his brethren moulder. He bends before the tomb of his 
*' Father": — his words are tears; — the speech of sad re- 
membrance. He looks round upon a ransomed land, and a 
joyous people; he beholds the blessings which those trophies 
secured; — for which those brethren died — for which that 
Father lived; — and again his words are tears — the elo- 
' quence of gratitude and joy. 

7. Spread forth creation like a map; bid earth's dead mul- 
titudes revive; — and of the pageant splendors that ever glit- 
tered to the sun, when looked his beaming eye on such a 
sight as this? Of all the myriads that have come and gone, 
what cherished hero ever reigned an hour like this? 

Many have struck the redeeming blow for their own free- 
dom, but who, like this man, has bared his bosom in the 
cause of strangers? Others have lived in the love of their 
own people, but who, like this man, has drunk his sweetest 
cup of welcome with a foreign nation? 

8. Matchless chief! high in the temple of the mighty; 
and, among glory's immortal tablets, there is one for him;— 
one for him alone! The dust of time shall not light upon 
it; — the shroud of oblivion shall not hide its splendor: — for 
the everlasting flame of Liberty shall guard it — and the 
generations of men shall rise up and look upon it, and shall 
behold the beloved, the honored name of 

LA FAYETTE. 

9. Lo! the brave — the gallant — is passing by; 

His proud plumes shade his princely brow; 
Myriads of voices are rais'd on high, 
And joyously rings the welkin now. 

Beauty presents him her most lovely smile; 

Lily hands wave him cheerily on; 
With flowers they bedeck his path the while, 

All by white-rob'd innocence strown. 

The knees of the young bend heside his way, 
A wreath of laurel crowns his b^ow; 

The aged uncover their locks of gray, 
And loveliness makes him her bow. 

C, Sprague. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 143 

EXERCISE XVI. 

The Decay of the American Indians, 

1. What can be more melancholy than the history of the 
American Indians. By a law of their nature, they seem 
destined to a slow but certain extinction. Every where, 
at the approach of the wiiite man, they fade away. We 
hear the rustling of their footsteps, like that of the leaves of 
autumn, and they are gone forever. They pass mournfully 
by us, and they return no more. 

2. Two centuries ago, the smoke of their wigwams, and 
the fires of their councils, rose in every valley from Hud- 
son's Bay to the farthest Florida, from the Ocean to the 
Mississippi and the Lakes. The sliouts of victory and the 
war dance, rung through the mountains and the glades. The 
thick arrows and the deadly tomahawk, wrestled through 
the forests; and the hunter's track, and the dark encamp- 
ment startled the wild beasts in their lairs. The warriors 
stood forth in their glory. Braver men never lived; truer 
men never drew the bow. 

3. They had courage, and fortitude, and sagacity, and 
perseverance, beyond most of the human race. 'I'hey shrunk 
from no dungeons, and they feared no hardships. If they 
had the vices of savage life, they had the virtues also. They 
were true to their country, their friends, and their homes. 
If they forgave no injury, neither did they forget kindness. 
If tlieir vengeance was terrible, their fidelity and generosity 
were unconquerable. Their love, like their hate, cooled not 
on this side the grave. 

4. Where are they? Where are the villages, and war- 
riors, and youth? — the sachems and the tribes? — the hun- 
ters and their families? They have perished. They are 
consumed. The wasting pestilence has not done the mighty 
work. No; nor war, nor famine. There has been a miglitier 
power, a moral canker, which has eaten into their heart- 
cores; a plague which the tooth of the white man commu- 
nicated; a poison which betrayed them into lingering ruin. 
The winds of the Atlantic, fan not a single region which 
they can now call their own. Already the last feeble rem- 



144 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

nant of their race, are preparing for their journey beyond 
the Mississippi. 

5. I see them leave their miserable homes, the aged, the 
helpless, the women, and the warriors, "few and faint, but 
fearless still." The ashes are cold on their native hearths. 
'J'he smoke no longer curls round their lowly cabins. They 
move on with a slow, unsteady step. 'J'he white man is 
upon their heels, for terror or despatch, but they heed him 
not. They turn to take a last look of their native villages. 
They cast a last glance upon the graves of their fathers. 
They shed no tears; they utter no cries; they heave no 
groans. 

6. There is something in their hearts, however, which 
passes speech. There is something in their looks, not of 
vengeance or submission, but of hard necessity, which stifles 
both; which chokes all utterance; — which has no aim — no 
method. It is courage absorbed in despair. Tliey linger 
but for a moment. Their look is onward. They know 
and feel that there is for them, but one removp farther, — 
not distant, — not unseen. It is to the general burial-ground 
of their race. Story. 

EXERCISE XVII. 

l^he Intemperate Husband. 

1. My Friends, it is in the degradation of the husband by 
intemperance when she, who has ventured every thing, feels 
that all is lost. Who shall protect her, when the husband 
of her choice insults and oppresses her? What shall de- 
light her, when she shrinks from the sight of his face, and 
trembles at the sound of his voice? The hearth is indeed 
dark, that he has made desolate. There, through the dull 
midnight hour, her griefs are whispered to herself; her 
bruised heart bleeds in secret. 'J'hen, while the cruel 
author of her distress is drowned in distant revelry, she 
holds her solitary vigils, waiting, yet dreading his retirrn, 
that is only to wring from her, by unkindness, tears even 
more scalding than those she sheds over his heartless ne- 
glect. 



THE JUNVEILE ORATOR. 145 

2. To fling a deeper gloom across the present, memory 
turns back, and broods upon the past. The joys of other 
days come over her, as if only to mock her grieved and 
weary spirit. She recalls the ardent lover, whose graces 
won her from the liome of lier infancy; the enraptured father 
who hung with such delight over his new-born children; 
and she asks, if this be the same; this sunken being, who 
has now nothing for her but the sot's disgusting brutality; — 
nothing for those abashed and trembling children, but the 
sot's disgusting example! 

3. Can we wonder that, amid these agonising moments, 
the tender cords of violated affection should snap asunder? — 
that the scorned and deserted wife should conless, *' there 
is no killing like that which kills the heart?" — that, though 
it would be hard to kiss, for the last time, the cold lips of a 
dead husband, and lay his body forever in the dust, it is 
harder still to behold him so debasing life, that it even would 
be greeted in mercy? 

4. Had he died in the light of his goodness, bequeathing 
to his fimiily the inheritance of an untarnished name, and 
the example of virtues that should bloom for his sons and 
daughters from the tomb, though she would have wept bit- 
terly indeed, the tears of grief would not have been also the 
tears of shame. She beholds him fallen from the station he 
once adorned, degraded from eminence to ignominy; at 
home, turning his dwelling to darkness, and his holy en- 
dearments to mockery; abroad, tlirust from the companion- 
ship of the worthy, a self-branded outlaw. C, Sprague. 

EXERCISE XYIII. 

The Pleasures of Old .%e. 

1. The young, who all wish to live, but who, at the 
same time, have a dread at growing old, may not be dis- 
posed to allow the justice of the representation I am now 
about to make. They regard old age as a dreary season, 
that admits of nothing that can be called pleasure, and very 
little that deserves the name even of comfort. They look 
forward to it, as in autumn, we anticipate tlie approach of 
13* 



146 THE JUNENILE ORATOR. 

winter; but winter, though it terrifies us at a distance, has 
nothing in it, when it arrives, that is very formidable. Its 
enjoyments are of a different kind; but we find it not less 
pleasant than any other season of the year. 

2. Old age, in like manner, frightful as it may be to the 
young, who view it afar off, has no terror to them who see 
it near; and experience proves that it abounds with conso- 
lation, and even delights. We should look, therefore, with 
pleasure on many aged men, whose illuminated faces and 
hoary heads, resemble one of those pleasant days in winter, 
so common in this climate, when a bright sun darts its beams 
on a pure field of snow. The beauty of spring, ihe splendor 
of summer, and the glory of autumn are gone; but the pros- 
pect is still lively and cheerful. 

3. Among other circumstances which contribute to the 
satisfaction of this period of life, is the respect with which 
old age is treated. There are, it must be acknowledged and 
lamented, some foolish and badly educated young persons, 
who do not pay that veneration which is due to hoary 
hairs; but these examples are not numerous. The world 
in general bows down to age, gives a precedence, and 
listens with deference to its openness. 

Old age wants accommodations; and it must, in justice lo 
man, be allowed that they are furnished with cheerfulness. 
Who can deny that such reverence is soothing to the human 
mind? And that it compensates us for the loss of many 
pleasures which are peculiar to youth? 

4. The respect of the world, in general, is gratifying; but 
the respect of man's own offspring, must yield heartfelt de- 
light. Can there be a more pleasing sight, than a venerable 
old man, surrounded by his children and grand-children, all 
of whom are emulous of each other in testifying their 
homage and affection? His children, proud of their honored 
father, strive who shall treat him with the most attention, 
while his grand-children hang on his neck, entertain him 
with their innocent prattle, and convince him that ihey love 
their grand-father, not less than they love their own father. 
After viewing such a scene, can we possibly believe that it 
is not a blessing to live long?-^and yet no spectacle is more 
common. Freeman. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 147 

EXERCISE XIX. 

Reflections on Water. 

1, Let us notice what we call water — a liquid, clear and 
transparent body. Now it escapes from our grasp, and 
now it lakes the form of whatever surrounds it, having none 
of its own. If the water were a liitle more rarified, it would 
become a species of air, — the whole face of nature would be 
dry and sterile. He who lias given us this fluid, has dis- 
tributed it with care through the earth. The waters flow 
from the mountains. They assemble in the valleys, and 
they flow in the rivers, winding their way through the coun- 
try, that they may more efl^eclually water it. At last they 
empty themselves into the sea, where they find a common 
level, and swell this mighty pathway of the commerce of 
nations. 

2. This ocean, what seems an eternal separation of all 
countries, is, on the contrary, the great centre of all nations. 
It is over this trackless way, across this profound abyss, 
that the Old World has put forth its hand to the New, and 
that the latter supplies the former with treasures. This vast 
body of limpid water is to the earth, what the blood of man 
is to his body. It circidates through its caverns and secret 
channels. Besides this constant circulation, there is the 
ebbing and flowing of the whole mass, called the tides; this 
keeps it pure and healthful. We see the overwhelming 
flood rise upon the land, and retire at given times, and to a 
given extent. Who has commanded this flux and reflux? 
Who controls this world of waters, and gives neither too 
little, nor too much? And says to the rivers come thus far 
and no farther? 

3. He that made the earth and the heavens, and fashioned 
our frames curiously and wonderfully. His unerring finger 
marked the boundaries of the deep, bade the waves roll, 
and fixed a habitation for the mighty Leviathan. And the 
waters roll at his bidding, and have rolled through countless 
ages, and have remembered the mandate, '* Here shall thy 
proud waves be staid." We look into the heavens, and 
behold clouds flying upon the wings of the wind; these are 
bodies of water suspended over our heads to temper the air 



148 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

and refresh the thirsty soil. If they were to fall all at once, 
they would overwhelm and destroy every herb and living 
thing. What mighty arm suspends them in the heavens, 
shakes them as a sieve, and they fall in small drops and 
gentle dews? Fenelon, 

** God from his cloudy cistern pours. 
On the parch'd earth, refreshing showers; 
The grove, the garden, and the field, 
A thousand cheerful blessings yield." 

EXERCISE XX. 

The Visible Firmament, 

1. If the sun, at the distance from us at which he now 
rolls, were a good deal larger, he would light our whole 
world; but then he would consume, too, with devouring 
heat. If he were a good deal smaller, the earth would be- 
come covered with ice, and could not be inhai^ited by man 
or beast.' What compass has been stretched from heaven to 
earth, to take these measurements, and poise the spheres in 
just relations? Now but half of our world is lighted at once, 
and this serves the day and the night. Then the changes 
of the earth, in relation to the sun, cause the seasons, the 
seed time and harvest, the heat and the cold. 

2. The spring checks the cold winds, wakens the flowers, 
and gives the promise of fruit. The summer cherishes the 
fruit, and brings the riches of harvest. Then the autumn 
perfects the spring's promise and the summer's bounty, and 
gives to man the fruition of his hopes. Winter is the night 
of the year, the season of rest. The treasured riches of 
autumn cheer the hearts of the frost-bound thousands, who 
preserve the seed for a future harvest, to be scattered amidst 
the beauty of spring. Thus nature, so variously adorned, 
presents alternately her beautiful changes, that man may 
admire and rejoice. 

3. Let us look up again to the immense concave above 
us, where sparkle the countless stars. If it be solid, who 
is the builder? Who is it that has fastened in it, at regular 
distances, such grand and luminous bodies? Who gives 
this bright and beautiful arch the appearance of turning 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 149 

round ns with such exactness? If, on the contrary, the 
heavens are only an immense space, filled with fluid bodies, 
like the air that surrounds us, how is it that so many solid 
bodies float in it without interfering one with another? 

4. After so many ages of unwearied labor, in which man 
has been making astronomical observations and calculations, 
how is it that they have discovered no derangement of the 
heavens? Can a fluid body give such a constant and regular 
direction, — such permanent order, — to substances that float 
in them, or that sail on their bosom? But for what purpose 
are the countless myriads of stars? The Creator has sown 
them in the heavens as a magnificent prince would his gar- 
ments with precious stones. Fenelon. 

EXERCISE XXT. 

George Washington. 

1. The history of the Old World records the names of 
those whose deeds and daring cast a passing glare upon the 
age in which they lived, and whose memory yet survive 
the waste of time; but to the New World was reserved the 
glory of giving existence to one, the lustre of whose virtues 
lighted the habitable globe with a noon-tide splendor, that 
can subside only with subsiding nature. Upon the broad 
page of the history of man, George Washington stands in 
unclouded sublimity, an unmatched model of self-created 
greatness. The scene of his glory, was the spot of his 
birth; with the very milk of his mother, he drank in tlie 
principles of a pure morality, the spirit of a divine religion, 
an unquenchable love of freedom, and a mortal dislike to 
tyrants and to tyranny. 

2. Nature, as if pledged to set before the world a perfect 
finish of her best production, bestowed upon him a tall and 
manly frame, of surprising symmetry of form, and iron cast; 
an arm of giant nerve; a face of awful majesty, softened by 
lines of God-like benignity, and an eagle's eye, from which 
corruption, cowering, shrunk abashed; and, to crown her 
gift, and make the boon to man complete, she introduced 
him to his country's wishes, in the dark and trying hour of 
his country's need. 



150 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

3. A foreign foe, the arbiter of nations, with coffers full 
of gold, an army millions strong, and ships of war that 
whitened every sea, came hovering on our shores, with 
fire and sword, to make us slaves, and bow our necks to 
wear the yoke cf royally. The eyes of all the world were 
turned upon us; and our eyes were turned on Washington. 
He, his country's shield, with chosen comrades, few, in- 
deed, but undrsmayed, met the invader in the tented field, 
and boldly mingled in the unequal fight. 

4. The dubious strife, of near octennial age, w^ore ever 
varying shades; — the blood of heroes fertilised the soil, — 
whole cities, wrapped in flames, bore ample witness of the 
tyrant's dire intent; and the startling yell of savage hordes, 
commingling with the war-trump's hoarser note, proclaimed 
his allies in the work of death. But he, who drove the car 
of war, and poised his country's sword, in whose capacious 
mind, the springs of resource never felt an ebb, — whose 
energy of soul no disaster ever shook, and whose devotion 
to his country's cause no vicissitude could change, rolled 
back the cloud that hung upon the scene, and led his little 
band to victory, and a nation to glory. Compiler. 

EXERCISE XXII. 

The Union of the United States. 

1. What has the Constitution left undone, which any 
government could do for a whole country? In what con- 
dition has it placed us? Where do we stand? Are we 
elevated or degraded by its operation? What is our condi- 
tion under its influence at the very moment when some talk 
of arresting its power and breaking its unity? Do we not 
feel ourselves on an eminence? Do we not challenge the 
respect of the whole world? What has placed us thus high? 
What has given us this just pride? What else is it but the 
unrestrained and free operation of that same Federal Con- 
stitution which it has been proposed to hamper — to manacle 
—to nullify? 

2. Who is there among us that should find himself on 
any spot of earth, where human beings exist, and where the 
existence of other nations is known, that would not be proud 
to say, I am an American? I am a countryman of Wash- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 151 

ington? Our country, at the present time, stands on com- 
manding ground. Older nations, with diflerent systems of 
government, may be somewhat slow to acknowledge all that 
justly belongs to us. But we may feel, without vanity, that 
America is doing her part in the great works of improving 
human affairs. There aie two principles, strictly and purely 
American, which are now likely to overrun the civilised 
world. Indeed, they seem the necessary result of the pro- 
gress of civilisation and knowledge. 

^ 3. These are, first, popular governments; and, secondly, 
universal education. Popular governments and general edu- 
cation, acting and reacting, mutually producing and repro- 
ducing each other, are the mighty agencies which, in our 
days, appear to be exciting, stimulating, and changing civi- 
lised societies. On the basis of these two principles, liberty 
and knowledge, our American systems rest; and thus far 
we have not been disappointed. 

4. Our existing institutions, resting on these foundations, 
have conferred on us almost unmixed happiness. Do we 
hope to better our condition by change? When we shall 
have nullified the present Constitution, what are we to re- 
ceive in its place? As fathers, do we wish for our children 
a better government, or better laws? As members of society, 
as lovers of our country, is there any thing that we can de- 
sire for it, better than that, as ages and centuries roll over 
it, it may possess the same invaluable institutions which it 
now enjoys? — the same smiles of heaven under which it has 
long rested? And, oh! may it never be less prosperous. 

B, Webster, . 

EXERCISE XXIII. 

Increase of Human Knowledge, 
1. What are great and beneficial discoveries in their 
origin? What is the process which has led to them? They 
are the work of rational minds operating upon the materials 
existing in nature, and observing the laws and properties of 
the physical world. The Creator of the universe has fur- 
nished us the matter; it is all around us, above us, and be- 
neath us; in the ground under oar feet; in the air we breathe; 
and in the various subjects of the kingdom of nature. We 



152 THE JUVENILE ORATOR, 

cannot open our eyes, nor stretch out our hands, nor take a 
step, but we see, and handle, and tread upon the things 
from which the most wonderful discoveries and inventions 
have been educed. 

2. What is gunpowder, which has changed the character 
of modern warfare? It is the mechanical mixture of some 
of the most common and least costly substances in nature. 
What is the art of printing? A contrivance less curious, as 
a piece of mechanism, than a musical box. What is a 
steam-engine? An apparatus for applying the vapor of boil- 
ing water. What is vaccination? A trifling oil, communi- 
cated by the scratch of the lancet, and yet capable of pro- 
tecting human life against one of the most dreadful maladies 
to which it is exposed. 

3. And are the properties of matter all discovered? its 
laws all found out? the uses to which they may be applied 
all detected? I cannot believe it. We can hardly suppose 
but that truths, now unknown, are in reserve to reward the 
patience and labor of all future lovers of research; — truths 
which will go as far beyond the brilliant discoveries of the 
last generation, as these do beyond all that was known to 
the ancient world. In that great volume, written by the 
Hand Divine, the pages are infinite, and they are to be gra- 
dually turned, produced, and announced, to benefitted and 
grateful generations; but they must be turned by the hand 
of genius and patience; and especially by patience; by un- 
tiring, enthusiastic, self-devoting patience. 

4. The progress that has been made in the arts and 
sciences, is indeed very vast; and we are ready to think a 
pause must follow; — that the goal must be at hand. But 
there is no goal; and, while mind is free, there can be no 
pause; — for art and science are, in themselves, progressive 
principles; they are moving powers; they are instinct with 
life; they are themselves the intellectual life of man. No- 
thing can arrest them which does not replunge the entire 
order of society into barbarism. There are no bounds to 
truth,— no limit to its discovery and application; and we 
might as well think of building a tower, and, from the top 
of it, grasp the Dog-star in our hands, as to prescribe an 
end to discovery, or set bounds to invention. E. Everett. 



I 



the juvenile orator. 153 

Exercise xxiv. 

Objections urged against the Declaration of Independence 
in 1776, 

1. Let us pause a momenl! — This step, once taken, can- 
not be retraced. — This resolution, once passed, will cut off 
all hope of reconciliation. If success attend the arms of 
England, we shall then be no longer colonies with charters 
and privileges; tliese will all be forfeited by this act, and 
we shall be in the condition of a conquered people — at the 
mercy of the conquerors! For ourselves, we may be ready 
to run the hazard; but are we ready to carry our country to 
that length? — Is success so probable as to justify ii? Where 
is the military force; — where the naval power, by which we 
are to resist the whole strength of the arm of England? — for 
we shall awake her power to the utmost. 

2. Can we rely on the constancy and perseverance of the 
people? Or will they not act as the [)eople of other coun- 
tries have acted, and, weary with the war, submit to a worse 
oppression? While we stand on our old ground, and insist 
on a redress of grievances, we know we are right, and are 
not answerable for consequences. Nothing, then, can be 
imputed to us. But, if we now change our object, carry 
our pretensions further, and set up for absolute independence, 
we shall lose the sympathy of mankind. We shall no 
longer be defending what we possess, but struggling for 
what we never had, and what we have solemnly and uni- 
ftjrmly, from the outset of our troubles, disclaimed all inten- 
tions of pursuing. 

3. Abandoning this, our old ground of resistance to arbi- 
trary acts of oppression, the world will believe the whole to 
have been a mere pretence, and will look on us, not as in- 
jured, but as anTbiiious subjects. I shudder before this 
responsibility. It will be on us, if, relinquishing the grounds 
on which we have so long stood, and stood safely, we now 
proclaim independence, and carry on the war for that object, 
while these cities burn, these pleasant fields whiten and bleach 
wiih the bones of their owners, and these streams run bloocL 
It will be upon us, if, failing to maintain this unreasonable 
and ill-judged declaration, a stern government, enforced by 

14 



154 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

military power, will be established over onr posterity, when 
we, ourselves, given np and exhausted, a misled, harassed 
people, shall have expiated our rashness and atoned for our 
presumption on the scaffold. 

EXERCISE XXV. 

Reply to the Objections to the Declaration of Independence. 

1. Sink or swim, survive or perish, I give my hand and 
my heart to this vote! It is true, indeed, that in the begin- 
ing we did not aim at independence; but there is a Divinity 
that shapes our ends. The injustice of England has driven 
ns to arms, and, blind to her own interest, she has persisted 
until independence is within our grasp. We have but to 
reach forth to it, and it is ours. Why then should we defer 
the Declaration? Is any man so weak as to hope for recon- 
ciliation with England, that shall leave safety to his country, 
or safety to his own honor or his own life? Are not you, sir, 
who preside over our deliberations — and is not our venera- 
ble colleague near you — are you not both proscribed? — cut 
off from royal mercy, and a price set upon your heads? If 
we postpone this Declaration, do we mean to give up the 
war? Do we mean to submit to the Boston Port Bill, and 
all? Do we mean to consent that we ourselves shall be 
ground to powder, and our country and rights trod in the 
dusi? 

2. I know we do not mean to submit. We never shall 
submit. Do we mean to violate that most solemn obliga- 
tion ever entered into by man — that plighting, before God, 
of our sacred honor to George Wasliington? When putting 
him forth to incur the dangers of the war, we promised to 
adhere to him to the last extremity, with our fortunes and 
our lives. I know there is not a man here who would not 
rather see a general conflagration sweep over the land— ^or 
an earthquake sink the country, than that one jot or tittle 
of our plighted faith should fall to the ground. 

3. For myself, having twelve months since, in this 
place, moved you, that George Washington be appointed 
commander of the forces raised, or to be raised, for the de- 
fence of American liberty, may my right hand forget her 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 155 

cunning — and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, 
if I hesitate or waver in the support I give him. Tlie war, 
then, must go on. We must fight it through. And if the 
war must go on, why put off this Declaration? The measure 
will strengthen us. It will give us character abroad. Europe 
will treat with us as a nation. England herself will treat 
with us for peace on the footing of independence. Why, 
then, do we not change the strife at once from a civil to a 
national war? and, since we must fight, why not put our- 
selves in a position to enjoy the victory? 

4. Sir, tliis Declaration will inspire the people with in- 
creased courage. It sets before them the glorious object of 
certain independence, and it will breathe into them a ne^v 
breath of life. Read this Declaration at the head of the 
army; — every sword will leap from its scabbard, and the 
solemn vows will rise to heaven, to maintain it, or perish 
on the bed of honor. Publish this Declaration from the 
pulpit ; religion will approve it, and the love of religious 
liberty, will cling round it, resolved to stand or fall with it. 
tSend this Declaration to the public halls; let them hear it 
who heard the first roar of British cannon; let them see it 
who saw their sons fall on the heights of Bunker Hill, and 
the plains of Lexington and Concord — and the very walls 
will cry out in honor of its support. 

5. Sir, I know the uncertainty of human afl^airs; but I 
see clearly through the business of this day. You and I 
may rue it: we may die slaves; die on the scaffold. Be it 
so. But while we live, let us have a free country. It will 
cost us treasure — and cost us blood; but it will stand and 
richly repay both. We shall make this a glorious day; 
when we are gone, our children will honor it; they will keep 
it with thanksgiving, with festivity, and bonfires. Sir, be- 
fore God, I believe the hour is come — my head and heart 
approve this Declaration. All I have, all I am, and all I 
hope in this life, I now stake upon it; and I leave off as I 
began — sink or swim, survive or perish, 1 am for Inde- 
pendence now! and Indf.pendence Forever! 

John Adams. 



156 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

EXERCISE XXVI. 

Gen. Marion, the Hero of the South, 

1. No man, in whose bosom beats an American heart, 
can read the Tell-like daring of the heroes of the American 
Revolution, without feeling his pulse quicken, and his soul 
kindle in a cause so just in its object, and so glorious in its 
results. 'J'hat age was most prolific in the production of 
men who stamped the human character with a moral gran- 
deur which was wholly unknown to former times, and which 
casts a halo around it that is seen throughout the civilized 
world. Among those heroes, General Marion fills an entire 
niche. 

2. He was a native of South Carolina, and the scene of 
his unparalleled daring, was the maritime regions of .the 
low and unhealthy country in the vicinity of Georgetown. 
In stature, the General was unusually diminutive, and his 
person was proportionably light. While in the service, he 
rode one of the fleetest and most powerful chargers that any 
country ever produced. Nothing escaped him in pursuit — 
and in retreat, it was fruitless to follow him; — and this his 
enemy had learned by sad experience. 

3. This lion-hearted hero, was admirably fitted for the 
times in which he lived, for the station which he filled, and 
the part which he acted. His iron constitution, enabled him 
to endure fatigue, his cautious habits, fitted him for dan- 
gerous enterprise, and his perfect knowledge of his field and 
iiis foe, gave him the power of achieving more with the 
same means, than any other man of any age or any country, 
whose name has found a place in the history of the world. 

4. The region of country over which, with his trusty 
few, he swayed the sceptre of dominion, with a skill and 
prowess tliat charmed his friends, but baffled and disconcerted 
his enemy, abounded in deep and dark swamps and dense 
thickets, whose passes and fastnesses were known only to 
himself and the creeping panther. To the dreary solitudes 
of these, when pressed by superior force, or fatigued with 
battling the foe, he would retire in safety, and shut himself 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 157 

lip from the vigilance of his pursuers, and tlie prying eye 
of the world. 

5. Then, as iinlooked for as a bolt of thunder from a 
cloudless heaven, and with the celerity of the lif/er's bou-id, 
he would again, at some remote point, and in an unguarded 
moment, [)ounce upon the enemy, like a falcon upon his 
prey, fold him in his toils, and bear him to the bush; — and 
to pursue him, were alike useless and dangerous. In no 
instance, was he ever overtaken in his course, surprised in 
his movements, or discovered in his hiding places. His 
followers were dear to him. In his eyes their blood was 
of high price — and therefore never wantonly spilled. When, 
however, the enterprise was possible, there was the stir of 
the storm; and his rapidity of motion, and boldness of front, 
often gave him the victory over ten times his own force. 

6. On one occasion, the General found himself nearly sur- 
rounded by the assaulting enemy, and, to escape their snare, 
lie lept a fence, and entei'ed a cornfield. The British dragoons, 
in full pursuit, lept the fence also, and bore down upon him. 
There was no means of retreat, except over another fence 

. on the opposite side of the held. This barrier w^as erected 
upon a bank of earth thrown from a ditch on the outer side. 
It was elevated about seven feet, and within two feet of the 
ditch, which was four feet wide, and as many deep. 

7. The dragoons, aware of the obstacle, and quite sure of 
their man, pressed on, shouting insult and exultation, and 
bidding the hero surrender or die. The General, regardless 
of their clamor, measured the fence with his eye, and, put- 
ting his horse to the charge, lit, like an; eagle, upon the 
outer margin of the ditch in perfect safety. He then wheeled 
and faced his pursuers, gave them the contents of his pis- 
tols, and, bidding them good morning, plunged into the 
neighboring thicket, whither they were loo wise to follow. 

EXERCISE XXVII. 

Commodore Perry'' s Victory on Lake Erie, 

1. Were any thing wanting to perpetuate the fame of this 
victory, it would be sufficiently memorable from the singu- 

14# 



158 THE JUVENILE ORATOR.^ 

lar scene where it was fonght. This war has been dis- 
tinguished by new and peculiar characteristics. Naval 
warfare has been carried into the interior of a continent, and 
navies, as if by magic, launched from among the depths of 
the forest! The bosoms of peaceful lakes, which, but a 
short time since, were scarcely navigated by man, except to 
be skimmed by the light canoe of the savage, have all at 
once been ploughed by hostile ships. 

2. The vast silence which has reigned for ages on those 
mighty masses of fresh water, was broken by the thunder 
of artillery, and the affrighted savage stared with amazement 
from his covert, at the sudden apparition of a sea-fight amid 
the solitudes of the wilderness. The peal of war has once 
sounded on that lake, but will probably never sound again. 
The last roar of cannon that died along her shores, was the 
expiring note of British dominion. Those vast internal 
seas will, perhaps, never again be the separating space be- 
tween contending nations; but will be enibosomed within a 
mighty empire; and this victory, which decided their fate, 
will stand unrivalled and alone, deriving lustre and perspi- 
cuity from its wonderful singleness. 

3. In future times, when the shores of Erie shall hum 
with the stir of a busy population, when towns and cities 
shall brighten where now extend the dark and tangled forest; 
when ports shall spread their arms, and lofty ships shall 
ride where now the bark canoe floats; when the present 
age shall have grown into venerable antiquity, and the 
mists of fiible begin to gather round its history, then will 
the inhabitants of Canada go back to the battle we now re- 
cord, as one of the romantic acliievmenls of the days of 
yore. 

4. It will stand first on the page of their local legends, and 
in the marvellous tales of tlie borders. 'I'he fisherman, as 
he loiters along the beach, will point to some half-buried 
cannon, covered with the rust of time, and will speak of 
ocean warriors, who came from the sliores of the Atlantic; 
while the boatman, as he trims his sail to the breeze, will 
■chant, in rude diiiies, the name of Perry, and his early vic- 
tory on the wave of Lake Erie. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 159 

5. Hfirk! the martial drum hails the approach of the brave! 
The Hero who fought on the proud, swelling wave; 
To the homes he defended — the homes of the free — 
We greet his return with a grand jubilee. 

All hail! gallant soldier! thy fame shall extend, 
As Liberty's champion, as America's friend, 
Till all, in the light of its gh/y shall see 

A world disenthraird, independent, and free. 

W. Irving. 

EXERCISE XXVIII. 

JRolla^s Jiddress to the Peruvians. 

1. My brave associates! partners of my toil, my feelings? 
and my fame! can Rolla's words add vigor to the virtuous 
energies that inspire your hearts? No; you have judged, as 
I have, the foulness of the crafty plea by which these bold 
invaders would delude you. Your generous spirit has com- 
pared, as mine has, the motives which, in a war like this, 
can animate their minds and ours. 

2. They, by a strange frenzy driven, fight for power, for 
plunder, and for extended rule; we, for our country, our 
altars, and our homes. They follow an adventurer whom 
they fear, and obey a power which they hate; we serve a 
monarch whom we love — a God whom we adore. When- 
ever they move in anger, descHation tracks their progress. 
Whenever they pause in amity, aflliction mourns their 
friendship. They boast they come but to improve our state, 
enlarge our thoughts, and free us from the yoke of error! 
Yes; they will give enlightened freedom to our minds, wlio 
are themselves the slaves of passions, of avarice, and of 
pride! 

3. They offer us their protection. Yes; such protection 
as vultures give to lambs — covering and devouring them! 
They call on us to barter all of good, which we have in- 
herited and proved, for the desperate chance of something 
belter, which they promise. Be our plain answer this: — 
the throne we honor, is the people's choice; the laws we 
reverence, are tlie legacy of our brave fathers; the faith w^e 



J 60 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

follow, teaches iis to live in bonds of charity with all man- 
kind, and die with the hope of bliss beyond the grave. Tell 
your invaders this; and tell them, too, we seek no change; 
and, least of all, such a change as they would bring us. 

4. Harshly sounds the trumpet's clamor, 

While our warriors leap to arms; 
Beauty shrinks in fearful tremor. 
Snatching graces from alarms. 

Harsh to us the martial clarion, 

Who, with peace and freedom blest, 

Bade the desert, drear and barren, 

Smile a garden in the west. Sheridan. 

EXERCISE XXIX. 

, The Nature of True Eloquence. 

1. When public bodies are to be addressed on momentous 
occasions, when great interests are at slake, and strong pas- 
sions excited, nothing is valuable in speech, farther than it 
is connected with high intellectual and moral endowments. 
Clearness, and force, and rousing earnestness, are the quali- 
ties which produce conviction, and win the ear. 

2. True eloquence, indeed, does not consist in speech. 
It cannot be brought from far. Labor and learning may 
toil for it, but they will toil in vain. Words and phrases 
may be marshalled in every way, but they cannot compose 
it. It must exist in the man, in the subject, and in the oc- 
casion. Affected passion, intense expression, the pomp of 
declamation, all may conspire after it; they cannot reach it, 

3. It comes, if it come at all, like the out breaking of a 
fountain from the earth, or the bursting forth of volcanic 
fires, with spontaneous, original, native force. The graces 
taught in the schools, the costly ornaments and studied con- 
trivances of speech, shock and disgust men, when their own 
lives, and the fate of their wives and their children, and 
their country hang on the decision of an hour. 

4. Then, words have lost their power; rhetoric is vain, 



I 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 161 

and all elaborate oratory contemptible. Even genius itself 
then feels rebuked and subdued, as in the })resence of higher 
qualities. Then, patriotism is eloquent; then, self-devotion 
is eloquent, 'ilie clear conception, outrunning the deduc- 
tions of logic, the high purpose, the firm resolve, the daunt- 
less spirit, speakino^ on the tongue, beaming from the eye, 
informing every feature, and urging the whole man onward, 
right onward, to his object. '1 his, — this is eloquence; or, 
rather, it is something greater and higher than eloquence;— 
it is action — noble, sublime, god-like action. 

D. Webster, 

exercise xxx. 

The Two Robbers. 

Alexander the Great and a Thracian Chief. 

Alexander. What! art thou that Thracian robber, of 
whose exploits I have heard so much? 

Chief. I am a Thracian, and a soldier. 

Alex. A soldier! — a thief, a plunderer, an assassin! the 
pest of the country! I could honor thy courage, but I must 
detest and punish thy crimes. 

Chief. What have I done, of which you complain? 

Alex. Hast thou not set at defiance my authority; vio- 
lated the public peace, and passed thy life in injuring the 
persons and prv)periies of thy fellow subjects? 

Chief. Alexander! I am jour captive — I must hear what 
you please to say, and endure what you please to indict. 
But my soul is unconquered; and if I reply at all to your 
reproaches, I will reply like a free man. 

Alex. Speak freely. Far be it from me to take the ad- 
vantage of my power, to silence those with whom I deign 
to converse. 

Chief. I must then answer your question by asking an- 
other. How have you passed your life? 

Alex. Like a hero. Ask Fame, and she will tell you. 
Among the brave, I have been the bravest; among sove- 
reiijns, the noblest; among conquerors, the mightiest. 

Chief. And does not Fame speak of me, also? Was 



162 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

there ever a bolder captain of a more valiant band? Was 
there ever — but I scorn to boast. You yourself know I 
have not been easily subdued. 

Alex. Slill, what are you but a robber — a base, dishonest 
robber? 

Chief. And what is a conqueror? Have not you, too, 
gone about the earth like an evil genius, blasting the fair 
fruits of peace and industry; plundering, ravaging, killing, 
without law, without justice, merely to gratify an insatiable 
lust for dominion? All that I have done to a single district 
with a hundred followers, you have done to whole nations 
with a hundred thousand. If I have stripped individuals, 
you have ruined kings and princes. If I have burned a few 
hamlets, you have desolated the most flourishing kingdoms 
and cities on the earth. What, then, is the difference, but 
that, as you were a king and I a private man, you have been 
able to become a mightier robber than I? 

Alex. But if 1 have taken like a king, I have given like 
a king. If I have subverted empires, I have founded 
greater. I have cherished arts, commerce, and philosophy. 

Chief. I too have freely given to the poor what I have 
taken from the rich. I have established order and discipline 
among the most ferocious of mankind, and have stretched 
out my protecting arm over the oppressed. I know indeed 
little of the philosophy of which you talk, but I believe that 
neither you nor I shall ever atone to the world for half the 
mischief we have done it. 

Alex Leave me. Take off his chains, and use him well. 
Are we then so much alike? Alexander like a robber? Let 
me reflect. 

exercise xxxi. 

Flattery Reproved. 

Canute, the Dane — Offa and Oswell, Courtiers. 

Canute. Is it true, my friends, as you have often told me, 
that I am the greatest of monarchs? 

Offa. It is true, my liege; you are the most powerful of 
all kinffs. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 163 

OswELL. We are all your slaves; we kiss the dnsl of your 
feet. 

Offa. Not only we, but even the elements are your 
slaves. The land obeys you from shore to shore, and the 
sea obeys you. 

Cax. Does the sea with its broad and boisterous waves 
obey me? Will that proud element be still at my bidding? 

C)ffa. Yes, the sea is yours; it was made to bear your 
ships upon its bosom, and pour the treasures of the world 
at your royal feet. It is boisterous to your enemies, but 
it knows you to be its sovereign. 

Can. Is not the tide coming up? 

Os. Yes, my liege; you may perceive the swell already. 

Can. Bring me a chair, then; set it here upon the sands. 

Offa. Where the tide is coming up, my gracious lord? 

Can. Yes, set it just here. 

Os. [Aside.) I wonder what he is going to do. 

Offa. [Aside.) Surely he is not such a fool as to be- 
lieve us! 

Can. O mighty ocean! thou art my subject; my courtiers 
tell me so; and it is thy duty to obey me. Thus then I 
stretch my sceptre over thee, and command thee to retire. 
Roll back thy swelling waves, nor let them presume to wet 
the feet of me, thy royal master. 

Os. [Aside.) I believe the sea will pay very little regard 
to his royal commands. 

Offa. See how fast the tide rises! 

Os. The next wave will come up to the chair. It is folly 
to stay here, we shall all be covered with salt water. 

Can. Well, does the sea obey my commands? If it be 
my subject, it is a very rebellious subject. See how it 
swells, and dashes the angry foam and salt spray over my 
sacred person! Vile sycophants! did you think I was the 
dupe of your base lies? — that I believed your abject flatteries? 
Know there is but one Being whom the sea will obey. He. 
is sovereign of heaven and earth; King of kings and Lord 
of lords. It is he only who can say to the ocean — " thus 
far shalt thou go, but no farther; and here shall thy proud 
waves be stayed." A. king is but a man: — and a man is but 
a worm. Shall a worm assume the powers of the great 



164 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Creator, and think the elements will obey him? May kings 
learn to be humble from my example, and courtiers learn 
truth from your disgrace. 

exercise xxxii. 
Learning and Usefulness. 
Mr, Howard and Mr. Lester. 

Howard. Life is much like a fiddle: — every man plays 
such a tune as ^uits him. 

Lester. The more like a fiddle, the better! like it — any 
thing that makes a merry noise, suits me; and the man that 
does not set his house to music, has a (hill time on't. 

How. But, Lester, are there no serious duties in life? 
Ought we not to improve our minds, and prepare for use- 
fulness ? 

Lest. Why, in the present day, a man's preparing him- 
self for usefulness, is like carrying coals to Newcastle. Our 
country is full of useful men; ten, at least, to where one is 
wanted, and all of them ten times as ready to serve the 
public, as the public is to be served. If every man should 
go to Congress that is lit for it, the Federal city would 
hardly hold them. 

How. You mean, if all who think themselves fit for it. 

Lest. No; I mean as I said. 

How. Then what do you think fits a man for Congress? 

Lest. Why he must be flippant and bold. 

How. What good will these do him if he is without 
knowledge? 

liEST. O! he must have knowledge to be sure. 

How. Well, must he not be a man in whom the people 
can trust? must he not understand politics? and must he not 
be able and willing to serve his country? 

Lest. I agree to all that. 

How. Then you suppose that the Federal city could 
hardly hold all our men who unite eloquence with confi- 
dence, knowledge with integrity, and policy with patriotism. 
I fear that a counting-house could give them full accommo- 
dation. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 165 

Lest. I don't go so deep into these matters; but this is 
certain, that when the election comes, more than enough are 
willing to go. 

How. That, my friend, only proves that more than 
enough are ignorant of themselves. But are there no other 
ways of serving the public? 

Lest. Yes; one may preach, if he will do it, for little or 
nothing. He may practice law, if he can get any one to 
employ him; or he may be a doctor; or an instructor; but I 
tell you the country is crowded with learned men begging 
business. 

How. Then you intend to prepare yourself for the igno- 
rant herd, so that you may not be crowded. 

Lest. I have serious thoughts of it. You may take your 
own way; but I will never wear out a pair of fine eyes in 
preparing myself for usefulness, till this same public will 
give me a bond to employ me when I am ready to serve 
them. Until such a bond is signed, sealed, and delivered, I 
shall set my house to the tune of '* Jack's alive." To-day's 
the ship I sail in, and that will carry the flag, in spite of the 
combined powers of yesterdays and to-morrows. 

How. Well, Lester, you can take your choice. I shall 
set my house to a more serious tune. I ask no bond of the 
public. If my mind is well furnished with knowledge, and 
that same generous public, which has so uniformly called to 
her service the well-informed and deserving, should refuse 
my services, still I shall possess a treasure, which, after a 
few years dissipation, you would give the world to purchase: 
— the recollection of time well spent. 

exercise xxxiii. 

The Price of a Victory. 

Young Oswald and his Father. 

Oswald. Good news! great news! glorious news! cried 
the youth, as he entered his father's house. We have ob- 
tained a great victory, and have killed, I don't know how 
many thousands of the enemy, and we are to have bonfires 
and illuminations. 
15 



166 TPIE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Father. And so, my son, do yon think, thai killing so 
many thousands of human creatures, is a thing to be very 
glad about? 

Oswald. No; — I do not think so, neither; but surely it 
is right to be glad that our country has gained a great ad- 
vantage. 

Father. No doubt it is right to wish well to our country, 
so far as its prosperity can be promoted without injuring the 
rest of mankind. But wars are very seldom to tiie real 
advantage of any nation; and when lliey are ever so useful, 
or necessary, so many dreadful evils attend them, that a 
humane man will scarcely rejoice in them, if he considers 
coolly on the subject. 

Oswald. But if our enemies would do us a great deal of 
mischief, and we prevent it by beating them, have we not a 
right to be glad of it? 

Father. Alas! we are, in general, incompetent judges 
which of the parties has the mischievous intentions. Com- 
monly, they are both in the wronor, and success will make 
both of them unjust and unreasonable. But putting that 
out of the question, he who rejoices in the event of a battle, 
rejoices in the misery of thousands of his species; and the 
thought of that should make him pause a little. Suppose a 
surgeon were to come in with a smiling countenance, and 
tell us, triumphantly, that he had cut off half a dozen legs 
that day — what would you think of him? 

Oswald. I should think him very hard-hearted. 

Father. And yet those operations are done for the benefit 
of the sufferers, and by their own desire. — But in battle, the 
probability is that none of those engaged on either side, have 
any interest at all in the cause they are fighting for; and 
most of them came there because they could not help it. 
In this battle that yovi are so rejoiced about, there have been 
ten thousand men killed upon the spot, and nearly as many 
wounded. 

Oswald. On both sides. 

Father. Yes — but they are men on both sides. Con- 
sider now, that the ten thousand sent out of the world in 
this morning's work, though they are past feeling themselves, 
have left probably, two persons each, on an average, to la- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 167 

ment their loss, either parents, wives, or cliildren. Here 
then are twenty thousand people made unhappy at one 
stroke, on their account. This however, is hardly so dread- 
ful to think of as the condition of the wounded. At the 
moment we are talking, eight or ten thousand more, are 
lying in agony, torn with shot, or gasjied with cuts, their 
wounds festering; some to die hourly a most excruciating 
death; others to linger in torture weeks and months, and 
many doomed to drag out a miserable existence for the rest 
of their lives, with diseased and mutilated bodies. 

Oswald. This is shocking to think of, indeed ! 

Father. When you light your candles, then, this even- 
ing THINK WHAT THEY COST ! 

exercise xxxiv. 

Mr. Barlow's New Colony. 

Mr, Barlow and his Sons, 

Mr. Barlow. Come, my boys, I have a new play for 
you. I will be the founder of a new colony; and you shall 
be the people of different trades and professions, coming to 
offer yourselves to go with me. What are you, Arthur? 

Arthur. I am a iarmer, sir. 

Mr. B. Very well ! The farmer puts the seed into the 
earth, and takes care of it when it has grown to the ripe 
corn; — without the farmer, we should have no bread. But 
you must work very hard; there will be trees to cut down, 
and roots to drag out, and a great deal of labor. 

Arthur. I shall be ready, sir, to do my part. 

Mr. B. Well, then, I shall take you willingly, and as 
many more such good fellows as you can find. We shall 
have land enough; and you may fall to work as soon as you 
please. Now for the next. 

Beverly. I am a miller, sir. 

Mr. B. a very useful trade! Our corn must be ground, 
or it will do us very little good; what must we do for a mill, 
my friend? 

Beverly. I suppose we must build one. 



168 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Mr. B. Then we must take a millwright with us, and a 
run of mill-stones. Who is the next? 

Charles. 1 am a carpenter, sir. 

Mr. B. The most necessary man that could offer. We 
shall find you work enough, never fear. There will be 
houses to build, fences to make, and chairs and tables besides. 
But all our timber is growing; we shall have hard work to 
fell it, to saw boards and planks, to hew timber, and frame 
and raise buildings. 

Charles. I will do my best, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you; but you had better bring 
two or three able hands along with you. 

Delville. I am a blacksmith, and know my trade. 

Mr. B. An excellent companion for the carpenter, and the 
farmer; we can do very little without any of you. You 
must bring your great bellows, anvil, and vice, and we will 
set up a forge for you as soon as we arrive. By the bye, 
we want a mason for that work. 

Edward. I am one, sir. 

Mr. B. Though we may live in log houses at first, we 
shall want brick work, or stone work for chimneys, hearths, 
and ovens; so there will be employment for a mason. Can 
you make bricks and burn lime? 

Edward. I will try what I can do, sir, 

Mr. B. No man can do more — I engage you. Who is 
next? 

Francis. I am a shoemaker. 

Mr. B. Shoes we cannot do without; but I fear we shall 
get no leather. 

Francis. But I can dress skins also. 

Mr. B. Can you? then you are a clever fellow; and I 
will have you, though I give you double wages. 

Ceorge. I am a tailor, sir. 

Mr. B. We must not go naked; so there will be work 
for a tailor. But you are not above mending, I hope; for 
we must not mind wearing patched clothes, while we work 
in the woods. 

George. 1 am not, sir. 

Mr. B. Then I engage you, too. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 169 

Henry. I am a silversmith, sir. 

Mr. B. Then, my friend, you cannot go to a worse place 
than a new colony to set up your trade. 

Henry. But I understand clock and watch-making, too. 

Mr. B. We shall want to know how time goes, but we 
cannot afford to employ you. At present, you had better 
stay where you are. 

Jasper. I am a barber and hair-dresser. 

Mr. B. What can we do w^th you? If you will shave 
our men's rough beards once a week, and crop their hair 
once a quarter, and be content to help the carpenter the rest 
of the time, we will take you. But you will have no ladies' 
hair to curl, or gentlemen's to powder, I assure you. 

Lewis. I am a doctor. 

Mr. B. Then, sir, you are very welcome; we shall some 
of us be sick, and we shall be likely to get cuts, and bruises, 
and broken bones. You will be very useful. We shall 
take you with pleasure. 

Maurice. I am a lawyer, sir. 

Mr. B. Sir, your most obedient servant. When we are 
rich enough to go to law, we will let you know. 

Oliver. I am a schoolmaster. 

Mr. B. That is a very respectable and useful profession; 
as soon as our children are old enough, we will be glad of 
your service. Though we are hard working men, we do 
not mean to be ignorant; every one among us must be taught 
reading and writing. Until we have employment for you 
in teaching, if you will keep our accounts, and, at present, 
read sermons to us on Sundays, we shall be glad to have 
you among us. Will you go? 

Oliver. With all my heart, sir. 

Mr. B. Who comes here? 

Philip. lama soldier, sir; will you have me? 

Mr. B. We are all peaceable people; and 1 hope we shall 
have no occasion to fight. We are all soldiers, and must 
learn to defend ourselves; we shall have no use for you, 
unless you can be a mechanic, or a farmer as well as a sol- 
dier. 

Robert. I am a gentleman, sir. 

Mr. B. a gentleman! And what good can you do us? 
15* 



170 THE JUVENILE ORATOR, 

Robert. I expect to shoot game enough for my own eat- 
ing; you can give me a little bread and a few vegetables; 
and the barber can be my servant. 

Mr. B. Pray, sir, why should we do all this for you? 

Robert. Why, sir, that you may have the credit of say- 
ing you have one gentleman, at least, in your colony. 

Mr. B. Ila, ha, ha! A fine gentleman truly. Sir, when 
we desire the honor of your company, we will send for 
you. 



exercise xxxv. 

Our Northern Workmen. 

Taken from a Speech delivered on the floor of Congress, 
in reply to Mr. Ficken^s attack on Northern Laborers, 
while on the Sub-Treasury Bill, 

Mr. Chairman, it is with great reluctance that I rise for 
the first time in this hall. But I feel my seU obliged io rise; — 
I am impelled to speak; — I cannot remain silent. I voted 
for the introduction of this bill to our deliberations, on pur- 
pose to afford the Honorable Gentleman from South Caro- 
lina an opportunity to express his views on the subject. I 
saw his anxiety to speak, and felt a friendly disposition to 
gratify him. If I were surprised when 1 heard him draw 
into the vortex of discussion, the exciting topics of Aboli- 
tion, Texas, Slavery, and Loco-Focoism, topics which have 
nothing to do with the Sub-Treasury, what must have 
been my feelings, when I heard him denounce the institu- 
tions of the North as mercenary and slavish; and exalt those 
of the South as ancient, patriarclial, and almost perfect? — 
boldly avow that the laborers of the North were the subjects 
of Northern capitalists? — put the Northern Workman on 
a footing with the Southern Slave, and threaten to preach 
insurrection to the Jaborers of the North? — Yes; preach 
insurrection to Northern laborers! 

I am a Northern laborer. Aye, sir, it has been my lot to 
have inherited, as my patrimony, at the early age of nine 
years, nothing but naked orphanage and utter destitution; — 
houseless and homeless, friendless and pennyless, I was 



I 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 171 

obliged, from that day forward, to earn my daily bread by 
my daily labor. And now, sir, — now, sir, — when I take 
my seat in this hall, as a free representative of a free people, 
am I to be sneered at as a Northern laborer, and degraded 
into a comparison with the poor, oppressed, and suffering 
Negro Slave? Is such the genius and spirit of our institu- 
tions? If it be, then did our forefathers fight, and bleed, 
and struggle, and die — in vain! 

Sir, the gentleman has mistaken the spirit and tendency 
of Northern institutions. He is ignorant of Northern cha- 
racter. He has forgotten the history of his country. Preach 
insurrection to Northern laborers! Preach insurrection to 
mel If, as the poet says, it was once preached successfully 
in Heaven, let me tell the gentleman, it will never succeed 
at the North. Who are the Northern laborers? The history 
of your country is their history. The renown of your 
country is their renown. The glory of their deeds is em- 
blazoned on every page of the past. Blot from your annals 
the bright achievements of Northern laborers, and the history 
of your country presents a mere blank. 

Sir, who was he that disarmed the thunder of its power 
lo harm? — wrested from his grasp the bolls of Jove? — be- 
came the central sun of the philosophical system of the age, 
and shed his effulgence on the whole civilised world? He 
was a Northern laborer! — the son of a Yankee tallow-chand- 
ler, — a printer's runaway apprentice boy! Who, let me 
ask, was he, who, in the days of the Revolution, led forth 
a Northern army; — yes, an army of Northern laborers, in 
aid of the Chivalry of the South, drove the spoiler from her 
firesides, and redeemed her fair fields from foreign invasion? 
It was a Northern laborer, — a Rhode Island blacksmith ! 
He left his hammer and his forge, and gloriously breasted 
the battles of our Independence! Will you preach insur- 
rection to men like these? 

Sir, let me tell the gentleman, that our whole country is 
full of the glorious achievements of Northern laborers ! 
Where are Concord, and Lexington, and Princeton, and 
Trenton, and Saratoga, and Hunker Hill — but in the North? 
And, Sir, what has shed an undying glory upon the very 
names of these hallowed places, but the high daring, the 



172 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

patriotism, the sublime courage of Northern laborers? The 
whole North is an imperishable monument of the freedom, 
virtue, intelligence, and indomitable independence of North- 
ern laborers! Will you preach insurrection to men of this 
stamp? As well might you preach it to their everlasting 
granite hills. 

And, Sir, if such were the Northern laborers in past days, 
such are they now; they are a race of men corrupted by no 
bribe, purchased by no price; they are sons worthy of their 
bold and sturdy sires. Follow them to the Canada lines. 
Whose blood run more freely, or more profusely there in 
the late war than the Northern laborers? Who won the 
glorious victories on the Lakes, the victories of Perry and 
M'Donough, but Northern laborers? Who made our ships, 
and manned our ships, and went forth upon the wave, and, 
for the first time, in time's long tide, humbled the British 
Lion on his own element? Why, Sir, they were Northern 
Laborers! They are the very men whom the gentleman 
has here ranked with the degraded — the manaclecl slaves of 
the South, and to whom he is about to preach insurrection! 

Well, let him preach! — let him preach! — and then, to top 
the climax, let him preach to the sun in the heavens! — 
seduce that glorious orb from his appointed path, and bid 
him run along the dusty plains of our litde earth! 

Charles Naylor, 

EXERCISE XXXVI. 

The Political Demagogue. 

In our country, too many young men rush to the arena of 
public life, without adequate preparation. They go abroad, 
because their homes are cheerless. They fill their minds 
with the vulgar excitement of what they call politics, for 
want of a more general stimulant within. Unable to sustain 
the rivalry of more disciplined intellects, they persevere after 
distinctions which they can now obtain only by fraud or 
artifice. 

They, therefore, take refuge in leagues and factions, — 
they rejoice in stratagems, they glory in combinations, — 
weapons by which mediocracy revenges itself on the uncal- 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR, 173 

cnlating manliness ofgenins, and mines its way into power. 
Their knowledj^e of tliemselves, inspires a low estimate of 
llie character of others. They distrust the intelligence and 
judgment of the community, on whose passions alone, they 
rely for advancement, and their only study is to waich the 
shifting currents of popular prejudice, and be ready, at a 
moment's warning, to follow them. 

For this purpose, their theory is, to have no definite prin- 
ciples, and give not positive opinions; never to do any thing 
so marked as to be inconsistent with doing the direct re- 
verse, and nev-ar to say any thing that is not capable of con- 
tradictory exphmations. They are thus disencumbered for 
the race — and, as the ancient mathematician could have 
moved the world had he anotlier place to stand on, so they 
are sure of success, if they have only room to turn. 

They worship cunning, because it has the semblance of 
wisdom, and they deem themselves sagacious only because 
they are selfish. Tliey believe that all generous sentiments 
and love of country, for which they feel no sympathy in 
their own breasts, are hollow pretences in others; — that 
public life is a game in wliich success depends upon dex- 
terity; and that government is a mere struggle for place. 
Such persons may rise to great official stations — for high 
offices are like the tops of pyramids which reptiles can reach 
as well as eagles. 

But though th.ey may gain place, they never gain honors; 
they may be politicians, but they never can become states- 
men. The pursuit of place alienates them, in time, from 
the walks of honest industry; — their anxiety for the public 
fortunes, dissipates all their own; — and with nothing left, 
either in their minds, or in their means, to retreat upon, 
having no self-esteem, and losing the esteem of others when 
they lose power, they soon acquire a servile love of sun- 
shine — a dread of being called unpopular; and this makes 
them the ready instruments of any chief who promises to be 
strongest. 

No matter with v*^hat bitterness they yesterday de- 
nounced, and calumniated, scorned him; and they will be 
ready to-morrow, with equal bitterness, to denounce, and 
calumniate, and scorn him. But while his short day acta- 



174 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

ally lasts — from positive sunrise to undeniable sunset — so 
long as he commands a majority, their first duty is to rush 
to the standard of the conqueror; — iheir first impulse is to 
seek forgiveness, — and their sole object is to secure an 
office. 

They degenerate, at least, into mere demagogues — wan- 
dering about the poUtical common, without a principle or a 
dollar, and anxious to dispose of their remaining popularity 
to the highest bidder. If successful, they grow giddy with 
the frequent turns by which they rise, and wither into ob- 
scurity. If they miscalculate — if they fall into that fatal 
error — the minority, disgrace awaits them. They are 
eclipsed by some more fortunate rivals — some fresher and 
more expert demagogues — some more pliant and popular 
man of the people, who flourishes for a season in gaudy 
and feverish notoriety, and then drops among things that 
are soon forgotten. N, Biddle. 

EXERCISE XXXVII. 

The True American Statesman, 

Far above and beyond this crowd of the factious and 
faithless, stands the character of which my country proudly 
boasts and which she delights to honor — it is The True 
American Statesman. For the high and holy duty of 
serving his country, he begins by deep and solitary study of 
her constitution and laws, and all her great interests. These 
studies are extended over the whole circumference of know- 
ledge; — all the depths and shoals of the hum.an passions are 
often sounded, that he may acquire a mastery over them, 
and make them subervient to his country's good. 

Then the solid structure is strengthened and embellished 
by familiarity with ancient and modern tongues — with his- 
tory, which supplies the treasures of old experience — with 
eloquence, which gives them attraction — and with the whole 
of that wide range of miscellaneous literature, which spreads 
over them all a perpetual freshness and variety, and which 
imparts a grace and glory that are reached through no other 
path. 

Trained to the duties of life by this course of studies, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 175 

m 

and animated by the habitual contemplation of those who 
have gone before him, as a True American Statesman, he 
lays his liand on his country's aUar, and dedicates himself 
to her service. From that hour — swerved by no sinister 
purposes — swayed by no visionary motives — his whole 
heart is devoted to her happiness and her glory. And no 
country under the wide heavens could be more worthy of a 
statesman's care — a statesman's pride. On none has nature 
lavished so bountifully, the materials of happiness and of 
greatness — as fatal, if misdirected, as they must be glorious 
when rightly appUed. 

On the American Statesman, devolves the solemn obliga- 
tion of protecting his country from all her foes — from those 
who lie without, and those who lie within her own bosom — 
and this he will do most effectually, by preserving his own 
independence, and doing his duty to his country fearlessly. 
He will never flatter the people, but leave that olhce to those 
who mean to betray them. He will remember that the man 
who fed the Roman people most luxuriously, was the very 
man who destroyed their freedom. In the wide play of human 
interests and human passions, he will remember that the 
same causes always influence the same results — that what 
has been, will again be, and that all the past throws a warn- 
ing light on the future. 

The sam.e arts which seduced other states may not be 
unavailing in our states. A conspiracy of profligate men, 
pandering to the passions of the f^ople, may inflame them 
to their own ruin; and the country, betrayed into the hands 
of its worst citizens, may be enslaved even with all the ap- 
pearances of freedom. 

Should that day unfortunately come, the True American 
Statesman will never capitulate — never compromise — never 
yield to his country's enemies. He will feel that crime is 
not the less guilty, but the more dangerous, by success; and 
if he sees the cause betrayed by those who should defend 
it, he will only be the more faithful; and, as he lived for his 
country, so will he freely die for his country, and glory 
in a death so honorable. N, Biddle, 



176 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 



EXERCISE XXXVIII. 

South Carolina's Merits as a Member of the Federal 

Union^ stated in the Senate Chamber of the United 

States. 

If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President, and I 
say it in no boastful spirit, that may challenge a comparison 
with any other, for a uniform, ardent, and uncalculating de- 
votion to the Union, that State is South Carolina. Sir, 
from the very commencement of the Revolution up to this 
hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, that she has not 
cheerfully made — no service t'lat she has ever hesitated to 
perform. 

She has adhered to you in your prosperity; but, in your 
adversity, she has clung to you with more than filial afl^ec- 
tion. No matter what was the condition of her domestic 
aflfairs; though deprived of her resources, divided by par- 
ties, or surrounded by difiiculties, the call of her country 
has been to her as the voice of her God. Domestic discord 
ceased at the sound, every man became at once reconciled 
to his brother, and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowd- 
ing together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altars 
of their common country. 

What, Sir, was the conduct of the South during the Revo- 
lution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that 
glorious- struggle. But, great as is the praise that belongs 
to her, I think, at least, equal honor is due to the South. 
They espoused the quarrel of their brethren with a generous 
zeal which did not suffer them to stop to calculate their in- 
terest in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, 
possessed of neither ships nor seamen to create commercial 
rivalship, they might have found in their situation a guar- 
antee that their trade would be forever fostered and protected 
by Great Britain. But, trampling on all consi(lerations, 
either of interest or safety, they rushed into the conflict, and, 
fighting for principles, perilled all in the sacred cause of 
freedom. 

Never were there exhibited, in the history of the world, 
higher examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and 
heroic endurance, than by the Whigs of Carolina in the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOK. 177 

(lays of the Revolution. The whole State, from the moun- 
tains to the seaboard, was overrun by an overwhelming 
force of the enemy. The fruits of industry perished on the 
spot where they were produced, or they were consumed by 
the foe. The plains of Carolina drank up the most precious 
blood of her citizens! Black and smoking ruins marked 
the phices which had been the habitations of her children! 
Driven from their homes into the gloomy and almost im- 
penetrable swamps, even there the spirit of liberty survived, 
and South Carolina, sustained by the example of her Sump- 
lers and her Marions, proved by her conduct that, though 
her soil might be overrun, the spirit of her people was in- 
vincible. /. Hayne. 

EXERCISE XXXIX. 

Senate Chamber of the United States. Reply to Mr, 
Hayne's Picture of South Carolina, as being brighter 
than that of Massachusetts, 

Mr. President, I shall enter upon no encomium on Mas- 
sachusetts — she needs non^. There she is — behold her, 
and judge for yourself. There iS her history — the world 
knows it by heart — the past, at least, is secure. There is 
Boston, and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker-Hill, and 
there ihey will remain forever. The bones of her sons, 
fallen in the great struggle for Independence, now lie mingled 
with the soil of every Slate from New England to Georgia, 
and there tliey will fie forever. 

And, Sir, where American liberty raised its first voice, 
and where its youth was nurtured and sustained, there it 
still lives, in the strength of its manhood, and full of its 
original spirit. If discord and disunion shall wound it- — if 
party spirit and blind ambition shall hawk at and tear it — if 
folly and madness, if uneasiness under salutary and neces- 
sary restraint, shall succeed to separate it from the Union, 
by which alone its existence is made sure, it will stand in 
the end by the side of that cradle in which its infancy was 
rocked; it will stretch forth its arm, with whatever of vigor 
it may still retain, over the friends who may gather at its 
birth place, and it will fall at last, if fall it must, amidst the 
16 



I 



178 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

proudest monuments of its own glory, and on the very spot 
of its origin. 

I profess, Sir, in my career hitherto to have kept steadily 
in view, the prosperity and honor of the whole country, and 
the preservation of our federal union. It is to that union, 
we owe our safety at home, and our consideration and dig- 
nity abroad. It is to that union that we are chiefly indebted 
for whatever makes us most proud of our country. That 
union we reached only by the discipline of our virtues in 
the severe school of adversity. It had its origin in the 
necessities of disordered finance, prostrate commerce, and 
ruined credit. 

Under its benign influence, these great interests imme- 
diately awoke, as from the dead, and sprang forth with 
newness of life. Every year of its duration has teemed 
with fresh proofs of its utility and its blessings; and although 
our territory has stretched out wider and wider, and our 
population spread further and further, they have not outrun 
its protection nor its benefits. It has been to ns all a copious 
fountain of social happiness and national glory. 

D. Webster. 

EXERCISE XL. 

Senate Chamber of the United States, Reply to Mr. 
Hayne^s Picture of South Carolina's Merits. 

The eulogium pronounced on the character of the State 
of South Carolina by the Honorable Gentleman, for her 
Revolutionary and other merits, meets my hearty concur- 
rence. I shall not acknowledge that the honorable member 
goes before me in regard for whatever of distinguished talent 
or distinguished character South Carolina has produced. I 
claim part of that honor. I partake in the pride of lier 
great names. I claim them for my countrymen — one and 
all — the Laurens, the Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the Sump- 
ters, the Marions — Americans all — whose fame is no more 
to be hemmed in by state lines, than their talents and 
patriotism were capable of being circumscribed within the 
same narrow limits. 

In their day and generation, they served and honored the 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 179 

country, and the whole country, and their renown is of the 
treasure of the whole country. Him, whose honored name 
the gentleman himself bears — does he suppose me less 
capable of gratitude for his patriotism, or sympathy for his 
sufferings, than if his eyes had first opened upon the light 
in Massachusetts, instead of South Carolina? Sir, does he 
suppose it in his power to exhibit a Carolina name so bright 
as 10 produce envy in my bosom? No, Sir, — increased 
gratification and delight rather than envy. Sir, 1 tliank God, 
that, if I am gifted with a little of the spirit which is said to 
be able to raise mortals to the skies, I have yet none, as 
I trust, of that other spirit which would drag angels down. 

When I shall be found, Sir, in my place here in the 
senate or elsewhere, to sneer at public merit, because it 
happened to spring up beyond the little limits of my own 
state or neighborhood; when I refuse for any such cause, 
or for any cause, the homage due to American talent, to ele- 
vated patriotism, to sincere devotion to liberty and country; 
or if I see an uncommon endowment of Heaven — if I see 
extraordinary capacity and virtue in any son of the South, 
and if, moved by local prejudice, or gangrened by state 
jealousy, I get up here to abate the tythe of a hair from his 
just character and just fame, may my tongue cleave to the 
roof of my mouth! 

Sir, let me recur to pleasing recollections, — let me in- 
dulge in refreshing remembrances of the past, — let me re- 
mind you, that, in early times, no slate cherished greater 
harmony, both of principle and feeling, than Massachusetts 
and South Carolina. Would to God that harmony might 
again return. Shoulder to shoulder they went through the 
Revolution, — hand in hand they stood round the adminis- 
tration of Washington, and felt his own great artn lean on 
them for support. Unkind feeling, if it exist, alienation and 
distrust, are the growth, unnatural to such soils, of false 
principles since sown. They are the weeds, the seeds of 
which, that same great arm never scattered. 

D, Webster, 



I 



180 the juvenile orator. 

exercise xli. 

Matches and Over Matches. 

Senate Chamber of the United States, . Reply to Mr. 
Haipie's Challenge of an Over-Match, 

Matclies and over Matclies! Those terms are more ap- 
propriate elsewhere than liere, and filter for other assemhlies 
than for this. Sir! the gentlem.m seems to forget where, 
and what, we are. This is a Senate; — a Senate o^ equals! 
— of men, of individual honor, and personal character, and 
of absolute independence. We know no master, — we ac- 
knowledge no dictator. This is a hall for mutual consul- 
tation and discussion, not an arena for the exhibition of 
champions. 

I offer myself, Sir, as a match for no man. I throw the 
challenge of debate at no man's feet. But then, Sir, since . 
the honorable member has put the question in a manner that 
calls for an answer, I will give him an answer. And I 
tell him, that, holding myself to be the humblest of the 
members liere, I yet know nothing in the arm of his friend 
from Missouri, either alone or when aided by the arm of 
his friend from Carolina, that need deter even me from 
espousing whatever opinions I may choose to espouse, — 
from debating whenever I choose to debate, or from speak- 
ing whatever I may see fit to say on the floor of the Senate. 

Sir, when uttered as matter of commendation or compli- 
ment, I should dissent from nothing which the honorable 
member might say of his friend; still less do 1 put forth any 
pretensions of my own; but when put to me as a matter of 
taunt, I throw it back, and say to the gendeman, that he 
could possibly have said nothing less likely than such a 
comparison to wound my pride or personal character, 

D, Webster. 

Note. — Mr. Hayne had charged Mr. Webster with having- passed 
by Mr. Bv^riton, in the debate, for the purpose of attacking him, because 
Mr. Benton was an " Over-match;" It is reported, that the charge 
produced an expression of withering scorn upon the features of Mr. 
Webster, and elicited the above cutting rebuke. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 181 

EXERCISE XLII. 

The Liberty and Union of the States. 

Sir, I have not allowed myself to look beyond the Union 
of the States to see what might lie hidden in the dark re- 
cess behind. I have not coolly weighed the chances of 
preserving liberty, when the bonds that now hold us together, 
shall be broken asunder. I have not permitted myself to 
hang over the precipice of disunion, to see whether, with 
my short sight, I can fathom the depth of the abyss below; 
nor could 1 regard him a safe counsellor in the atTairs of 
government, whose thoughts should be mainly bent on con- 
sidering, not how the Union could be best preserved, but 
how tolerable might be the condition of the people when it ^ 
shall be broken up and destroyed. 

While the Union lasts, we have high, inciting, gratifying 
prospects spread out before us and our children. Beyond 
that, I seek not to penetrate the veil. God grant that in my 
day, at least, that curtain may not rise. God grant that, on 
my vision, may never be opened what lies behind. When 
my eyes are turned to behold, for the last time, the sun in 
the heavens, may I not see him sljitiing on the broken and 
dishonored fragments of a once glorious Union; on states 
dissevered. — discordant, — belligerent; on a land rent with 
civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! 

Let their last feeble and lingering gaze, rather behold the 
gorgeous ensign of the Republic, now known and honored 
throughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and 
trophies streaming in all their original lustre, — not a stripe 
erased or polluted, not a star obscured, — bearing for its 
motto no such miserable interrogatory as, — '* What is all 
this worth?'^ nor those other words of delusion and folly, 
^'•Liberty First,^^ and '''Union ^^fterwards^^^ but every where 
spread all over- in characters ol living light, blazing on all 
its ample folds, as they float over the sea and over the land, 
and in every wind under the whole heavens, that other sen- 
timent, dear to every true American heart, — Liberty and 
Union, now and forever, one and inseparable! 

Note. — This speech was delivered in the Senate Chamber of the 
16* 



182 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

United States, in reply to Mr. Hayne^s inquiry as to the worth of the 
Union. Mr. Webster is said to have stepped forward, pushed his desk 
behind him, turned from the chair of the president, fixed his dark eyes 
on Mr. Hayne, and, in a tone and manner of irresistible eloquence, 
poured a torrent upon the Southern Nuliifier that silenced his inquiries 
s^iQ\\ii\lQ price of the Union. 



CHAPTER II. 
FIECES IN POETRY. 

exercise i. 
The American Sailor Boy. 

*' Their home is on the mountain wave." 

1. Year after year, both far and near, 

He sails the blue seas o'er; 
He never dreads the wave's death-bed, 
Though far from every shore. 

2. For in his prime he learn'd to climb, 

High up the reeling mast; 
And felt a pride safe there to ride. 
Heedlessly in the blast. 

3. And father's fear, and mother's tears, 

For many a truant child. 
Have sadden'd life, till with the strife. 
Of hope and fear, grown wild. 

4. They, side by side, have liv'd and died, 

By their own son forgot; 
Who, on the sea, half mad with glee. 
Blesses his happy lot. 

5. And boys, I've seen, who'd never been 

Where ships could sail before, 
As if in quest of some bird's nest, 
Ransack the spars all o'er. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 183 

6. They'd shout as loud from top-mast shroud, 

Which rattl'd in the breeze, 
As if at play, on a summer's day, 
'Midst boughs of apple trees. 



exercise ii. 
The Pirate Ship. 

*' Man's inhumanity to Man, makes countless thousands mourn." 

1. Midnight reigns; — on the ocean, 

Cahnly sleeps the starry beam; 
Steady is the barque's proud motion; 
Peaceful is the sailor's dream. 

2. Stealthy o'er the riv'n waves, 

Bounding swift, with murd'rous mien, 
Ploughing o'er its victims' graves, 
Lo! the Pirate Ship is seen. 

3. Gorg'd from guilt's infernal womb, 

Lurk around the savage crew: 
On each brow, the fiend of gh)om 
Stamps his seal, to horror true. 

4. Luxury of crime is theirs; 

Dead to pity, as to fear; 
Cruelty each bosom shares, 
Banquetino* on mis'ry's tear. 

5. Gold's their idol: — to this god, 

Nightly, fearful orgies rise; 

Rites accursed, steep'd in blood,, 

Mark their human sacrifice. 

6. Now, with crime, — low, fiendish mirth,— 

HellishMaughler, — shake the sky! 
Drunk with blood — the stain of earth — 
Lo! ihey join in revelry. 



184 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

7. Sailor, waken! — death is near; 

Waken from alluring sleep! 
Else before the dawn appear, 

Thou shall with all sleepers sleep. 

Tappan. 



exercise iii. 

The Mariner's Dream. 

"Land's-man, hear a ShipwreckM Sailor, 
Tell the Dangers of the Sea." 

1. In slumbers of midnight, the sailor-boy lay: 

His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind, 
But, watch-worn and weary, his cares flew away, 
And visions of happiness dane'd o'er his mind. 

2. He dream'd of his home, — of his dear native bow'rs, 
And pleasures that waited on life's merry morn, 
While mem'ry stood sideways half cover'd with flow'rs, 
And restor'd ev'ry rose, but secreted its thorn. 

3. Then fancy her magical pinions spread wide. 
And bade the young dreamer in ecstacy rise; — 
Now far, far behind him the green waters glide, 
And the cot of his forefathers blesses his eyes. 

4. The jessamine clamber'd in flow'rs o'er the thatch; 
And the swallow sung sweet from her nest in the wall; 
All trembling with transport, he raises the latch, 

And the voices of lov'd-ones reply to his call. 

5. A father bends o'er him with looks of delight; 
His cheek is impearl'd with a mother's warm tear; 
And the lips of the boy in a love kiss unite. 

With the lips of the maid, whom his bosom holds dear. 

6. The heart of the sleeper beats high in his breast; 
Joy quickens his pulse; — all hardships are o'er; 
And a murmur of happiness steals through his rest, — 
*•* Oh, Godi thou hast bless'd me, — I ask for no more." 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 185 

7. Ah! whence is that flame, which now bursts on his eye? 
Ah! what is that sountl which now pours in his ear? 
'Tis the lightning's red glare, painting hell on the sky! 
'Tis the crashing of thunder! — the groans of the sphere! 

8. He springs from his hammock; — he flies to the deck; 
Amazement confronts him with images dire; 
Wild winds and the waves, drive tlie vessel a wreck! 
The masts fly in splinters! — the shrouds are on fire! 

9. Like mountains, the billows tremendously swell; 
In v&in the lost wretch calls on Mary to save; 
Unseen hands of spirits are wringing his knell, 
And the Death Angel flaps his cold wing o'er the wave! 

10. Oh! sailor-boy, wo to thy dream of delight! 
In darkness dissolves thy gay frost work of bliss! 
Where now is the picture that fancy touch'd bright, 
Thy parents' fond pressure, and love's honi'd kiss? 

11. Oh, sailor-boy! sailor-boy! never again 
Shall thy home or thy kindred, thy wishes repay; 
Unbless'tl and unhonor'd down deep in the main, 
Full m-any a score fathom, thy frame shall decay. 

12. No tomb shall e'er plead to remembrance for thee; 
Or redeem form or frame from the merciless surge; 
But the white foam of waves shall thy winding-sheet be, 
And winds, in the midnight of winter, thy dirge. 

13. On beds of green sea flow'rs, thy limbs shall be laid; 
Around thy w^hite bones, the red coral shall grow; 
Of thy fair yellow hair, threads of amber be made. 
And ev'ry part suit to thy mansion below. 

14. Days, months, years, and ages shall circle away, 
And still the vast waters above thee shall roll; 
Earth loses thy pattern forever, and aye! — 
Oh, Sailor-boy! sailor-boy! peace to thy soul! 



186 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

exercise iv. 

The Coral Grove. 

" Ocean's mystic voice I hear! 
Peal of unwonted sound." 

1. Deep in the wave is a coral grove, 
Where the purple mullet and gold-fish rove; 
Where the sea-flower spreads its leaves of blue, 
Which are never wet with the morning dew; 
But in bright and changeful beauty shine, 

Far down in green and glassy brine. 

2. The floor's of sand, like the mountain drift, 
And the pearl-shells spangle the flinty snow; 
From coral rocks the sea-blasts lift 

Their boughs, where the tides and billows flow. 

3. The waters are calm and still below; 

For the winds and the waves are absent there. 
And the sands are bright as the stars that glow, 
In the motionless fields of upper air. 

4. There, with its waving blade of green. 
The sea-flag streams through the silent flood; 
And the crimson of its pulse is seen, 

To blush like a banner bath'd in blood. 

6. There, with a light and easy motion. 

The Fan Coral sweeps through the deep blue sea; 
And the yellow and scarlet tufts of ocean, 
Are waving like corn on the upland lea. 

6. There life, in rare and beautiful forms. 
Is sporting amid the bowers of stone; 

And is safe, when the wrathful spirit of storms. 
Has made the top of the wave his own. 

7. And when the ship from his fury flies, 
Where the myriad voices of ocean roar. 
Where the wind-god frowns in murky skies. 
And the demons are waiting the wreck on shore; 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 187 

Then, far, far below, in the peaceful sea, 
The purple mullet and the gold-fish rove; 
Where the vi^aters murmur tranquilly, 
Through the bending boughs of the Coral Grove. 

FercivaL 



EXERCISE V. 

The Blue Sea. 

During the late Turkish and Grecian war, a Greek Islander, who 
\vas a prisoner, was hurried from the sea shore into the interior, and, 
having reached "The Vale of Tempo," one of the most lovely spots in 
Europe, was ordered to admire its beautiful scenery; and, on looking 
up, he replied: — " Yes, all is fair; but the sea! where is thatl" From 
this hint, Mrs. Hemans gave the world the following beautiful verses: 

1. Where is the sea? — I languish here! 
Where is my own blue sea, 

With all its barques of fleet career, 
And flags, and breezes free? 

2. I miss the voice of waves; — the first 
Which brake my childish glee; 

The measur'd chime, the thund'ring burst:— 
Where is my own blue sea? 

3. Oh! rich your myrtle's breath may rise; 
And soft your winds may be; 

Yet my sick heart within me dies: — 
Where is my own blue sea? 

4. I hear the shepherd's mountain flute; 
I hear the whisp'ring tree: — 

The echos of my soul are mute:— 
Where is my own blue sea? 



188 the juvenile orator. 

exercise vi. 
The Evening. 

" O for Evening's brownest shade!" 

1. This is ihe hour when mem'ry wakes 

Sweet dreams which do not last; 
This is the hour when fancy takes 
A survey of the. past. 

2. She brings before the passive mind, 

The deeds of earlier years: 
With friends that have been long consigned 
To darkness and to tears. 

3. The few we lik'd, the one we lov'd, 

Appear, and then pass on; 
And many a well known form remov'd, 
And many a pleasure gone. 

4. Connections that in death are hush'd; 

Affection's broken chain; 
And hopes which fate too early crush'd, 
In memory live again. 

5. Now watch the fading gleams of day. 

And muse on prospects flown; 
Tint after tint, fades slow away; 
Night comes; — and all are gone. 

exercise VII. 

The Close of the Day. 

" *Tis night and fhe landscape is lovely no more.*' 

1, Soft sink the summer evening hues, 

O'er stream and forest fair; 
And gently fall tlie cooling dews 
Upon the darkening air. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 189 

2. There's scarce a ripple in the tide; 

A breath aaiid the woods; 
In fragrance sweet the breeze has died 
Amid their solitudes. 

3. Beside the water's silver wave, 

The gay acacia glows; 
Their boughs the weeping willows lave, 
In undisturb'd repose. 

4. While darkness in the distance spreads, 

The darker forests rise; 
Waving their proud, majestic heads, 
O'er ev'ning's symphonies. 

5. The feather'd songsters chant a strain, 

As loth to leave the scene; 
And sweetly yield to rest again, 
The shrubs and mounds of green. 

6. Tides, forests, earth, the air, and shore, 

The shades of night obey; 
While, falling gloomier than before, 
Extends her ebon sway. 

7. But soft a breathing breeze now wreaths 

Its cool note through the sky; — 
'Tis evening's requiem; — coolly breathes 
The low-land's vesper sigh. 



exercise viii. 

The Common Lot. 

"And the places that know him now, shall know him no more.^ 

1. Once in the flight of ages past, 

There liv'd a man: — and who was he? 
Mortal ! howe'er thy lot be cast. 
That man resembl'd thee. 
17 



l90 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

2. . Unknown the region of his birth; 

The land in which he died unknown; 

His name has perish'd from the earth; 

This truth survfves alone; — 

3. That joy, and grief, and hope, and fear, 
Alternate triumph'd in his breast; 

His bliss and wo, — a smile, — a tear! 
Oblivion hides the rest. 

4. The bounding pulse, the languid limb, 
The changing spirit's rise and fall; 
We know that these were felt by him, 

For these are felt by all. 

5. He suffer'd; — but his pangs are o'er; 
Enjoy'd; — but his delights are fled; 

Had friends; — his friends are now no more; 
And foes; — his foes are dead. 

6. He lov'd; — but whom he lov'd, the grave 
Hath lost in its unconscious womb; 

O she was fair! but naught could save 
Her beauty from the tomb. 

7. The rolling seasons, day and night. 

Sun, moon, and stars, the earth, and main, 
Ere while his portion, life and light, 
To him exist in vain. 

8. He saw whatever thou hast seen; 
Encounter'd all that troubles thee; 
He was wherever thou hast been; 

He is — what thou shalt be. 

9. The clouds and sun-beams o'er his eye. 
That once their shades and glory threw. 
Have left, in yonder silent sky. 

No vestige where they flew. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 191 

10. The annals of the human race, 

Their ruins, since the world began, 
Of him afford no other trace 
Than this: — there liv'd a man! 

Montgomery, 

exercise ix. 
Human Life. 

" The present moments just appear, 

Then glide away in haste; 
So we can never say they're here, 

But only say they're past." 

1. Oh! while we eye the rolling tide, 
Down which our fleety moments glide. 

So very fast, 
Let us the present hour employ, 
And deem each future dream of joy, 

Already past. 

2. Let no vain hope deceive the mind; — 
No happier let us think to find 

To-morrow than to-day; 
Our golden dreams of youth were bright; 
Like them the present may be light, — 

Like them decay. 

3. Our lives like hast'ning streams must be, 
Which into the ingulphing sea, 

Are doom'd to fall; — 
The sea of death, whose waves roll on. 
O'er kings and kingdoms, throne and crown. 

And swallow all. 

4. Just like the river's rolling tide, 
Or like the humble riv'let's glide. 

To the salt wave, 
Death levels poverty and pride; 
The rich and poor sleep side by side. 

In the cold grave. 



192 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

5. Our birth is but a starling place; — 
Life is the running of the race, 

And death the goal; 
There all our glittering toys are brought; 
That path alone, of all unsought. 

Comes to the whole. 

6. Say, then, how poor and little worth, 
Are all the tinsel'd toys of earth. 

Which gull us here? 
Dreams of a sleep which death will break, 
Alas! before he bids us wake. 

Ye disappear! 



exercise x. 

George Washington. 

Composed by the Rev. Mr. Pierpont, and sung at the Old South 
Church, Boston, Feb. 22d, when the nation was fifty years old. 

1. To Thee, beneath whose eye, 
Each circling century 

Obediently rolls, 
Our nation, in its prime, 
Look'd with a faith sublime, 
And trusted in " the time 

That tried men's souls:" — 

2. When, from this gate of heaven,* 
People and priests were driven, 

By fire and sword, — 
And, where thy saints had pray'd, 
The harness'd war-horse neigh'd 

In harsh accord. 

3. Nor was our fathers' trust. 
Thou Mighty One, and just, 

Then put to shame: — 

* The Old South Church was made a horse-stable, during the war, | 
by the British, f 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 193 

** Up to the hills" for light, 
Look'd they in peril's nio^ht, 
And, from yon guardian height,^ 
Deliverance came. 

4. There, like an angel form, 
Sent down to rule the storm, 

Stood Washington! 
Clouds broke and roll'd away; 
Foes fled in pale dismay; 
Wreath'd were his brows with bay, 

When war was done. 

5. God of our sires and sons. 
Let other Washingtons 

Our country bless; 
And, like the brave and wise 
Of by-gone centuries. 
Show that true greatness lies 

In righteousness. 

EXERCISE XI. 

Bunker HiLL.f 

Why should vain mortals tremble at the sight of Death and destruc- 
tion in a field of battle? 

1. Stand! — the ground's your own, my braves! 
Will ye gi/e it up to slaves? 
Will ye look for greener graves? 

Hope ye mercy still? 
What's the mercy despots feel? 
Hear it in the battle peal ! 
Read it in yon bristling steel ! 

Ask it: — ye who will! 

* Dorchester height where Washington planted his cannon, and 
drove the British out of Boston. 

t The Rev. Mr, Pierpont put the followin^^ patriotic address in the 
mouth of the lamented General Warren at tue battle of Bunker Hill, 
June 17th, A. D. 1775. 

17* 



104 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

2. Fear ye foes who kill for hire? 
Will ye to your homes retire? 

* Look behind you! — they're on fire! 
And before you see 
Who have done it! From the vale 
Up they come! — And will you quail? 
Leaden rain and iron hail, 

Let their welcome be! 

3. In the God of battle trust ! 
Die we may, and die we must; 
But, where can dust to dust, 

Be consign'd so well. 
As where the heav'ns their dews shall shed 
On the martyr'd patriot's bed? 
Where the granite rears its head, 

Of their deeds to tell!* 

exercise xii. 

Holy Ground. 

" That's Holy Ground, where lovM and bless'd, 
Freedom's first martyr's fell — and rest." 

1. O! is not this a holy spot? 

'Tis the high place of Freedom's birth! 
God of our fathers! is it not 

The Holiest Ground of all the earth? 

2. Quench'd is thy flame on Horeb's side; 

On Sinai rests the robber's vow; 
And those old saints, thy seers, 'bide 
No more on Zion's mournful brow. 

3. But on this Hill, thou, Lord, hast dwelt. 

Since round its head the war-cloud curl'd, 
And wrapp'd our fathers where they knelt, 
In prayer and batde for a world ! 

* June 17th, 1825, half a century after the battle, the corner-stone 
of a granite monument was laid by General La Fayette, on the spot 
where General Warren fell. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 195 

4. Here sleeps their dust: — 'lis Holy Ground ! 

And we, the children of the brave, 
From the four winds assemble round, 
To lay our off 'ring on their grave. 

5. Free as the winds around us blow, 

Free as the wave below us spread, 
"VVe rear a pile that long shall throw 
Itr shadow on their hallow'd bed. 

6. But, on their deeds, no shade shall fall. 

While, o'er their turf, thy sun shall flame; 
Thine ear was bow'd to hear their call, 
And thy right hand shall guard their fame. 

Fierpontf 

exercise xiii. 

The American Eagle. 

The Eagle, the American emblem, is said to have been taken from 
the family coat of arms of General George Washington. 

Jl. There is a bold, bald bird, with a bending beak, 
Wiih an angry eye, and a startling shriek, 
That inhabits the crag, where the clifl^-flow'rs blow, 
On the precipice top, in perpetual snow. 

2. He sits where the air is shrill and bleak, 
On the splinter'd point of a shiver'd peak, 
Bold, bald, and strip'd, like a vulture torn, 
In wind and strife, his feathers worn. 

3. All ruffl'd and stain'd, yet gleaming bright. 
Round his serpent neck, that's wrinkl'd and white, 
Winds a red tuft of hair which glitters afar, 

Like the crest of a chieftain thinn'd in war. 

4. This bird of the clifl^, where the barren yew springs, 
Where the sun-beams play, and the wind-harp sings, 
Sits erect, unapproachable, fearless, and proud. 
And screams, flies aloft, and lights in the cloud. 



196 THE JUVEMLE ORATOR. 

5. He's the bird of our banner: — the Eagle that braves, 
When the battle is there, the wrath of the waves; — 
He rides on the storm, in its hurricane march, 
'Mid lightning's broad blaze, across the blue arch. 

6. He dips his bold wing in the blushes of day; 
Driuks noon's fervid light, and eve's parting ray; 
He visits the stars at their home in the sky, 

And meets the sun's beam, with an unquailing eye. 

exercise xiv. 

The Drunkard. 

" Two deep, dark stains, mar all our country's bliss: — 
Foul slavery one, and one loath'd drunkenness. 

1. " Hand me the bowl, ye jovial band," 

He said; — " 'twill rouse my mirth:" — 
But conscience seiz'd his trembling hand, 
And dash'd the cup to earth. 

2. He look'd around, he blush'd, he laugh'd; 

Then sipp'd the sparkling wave; — 
But in it read, " who drinks this draught, 
Shall dig a murderer's grave!" 

3. He started up, like one from sleep! 

And shudder'd for his life; 
He gaz'd, and saw his children weep! 
And saw his weeping wife! 

4. In his dark dream, he had not felt 

Their agonies and fears; 
But now he saw them as they knelt, 
To plead with prayers and tears. 

- 5. But the foul fiend his hateful spell 

Cast o'er his staggering mind; — 
In every hope, he fanci'd hell: 
To reason, deaf and blind. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 197 

He grasp'd his cup to seek relief; — 

And conscience no more said: — 
His charming wife sunk down with grief; 

His children begg'd for bread. 

ThrougK haunts of vice, and scenes of strife, 

He pass'd down life's dark tide; — 
He cursM his beggar'd babes and wife; 

He curs'd his God! — and died. 



exercise xv. 
The Tipler's Warning. 

" Be warn'd, O youth! — push back the bowl; 
Its draught has ruin'd many a soul.'* 

1. Push back the bowl! its charms to-day 

Will vanish ere to-morrow; 
Its potent fumes will die away, 

And leave you wreck'd with sorrow. 

2, What though it lights the sparkling eyes, 

With momentary pleasure; 
Lo! when the deadly poison dies, 
WtJ follows at its leisure. 

3 Push back the bowl ! — the ruddy wine 

Is but a treacherous snare; 
Till serpents round thy goblet twine, 
And leave their poison there. 

4. A blaze of rapturous joys may seem 

To issue from the bowl; 
You bask a moment in the gleam. 
Then drink and drown the soul. 

5. Push back the bowl ! — its Judas kiss 

Soon lays the victim low; 
Why wallow in a brutish bliss, 
To find an age of woe? 



198 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

6. Let reason's voice be heard supreme; 

Take temperance for your guide; 
Lest, launched on dissipation's stream, 
You sink beneath its tide. 



exercise xvi. 
The Gift of x\rt. 

Composed for the Massachusetts Charitable Mechanic Association, 

1. When from the sacred garden driven, 

Man fled before his Maker's wrath, 
An angel left her place in heav'n, 

And cross'd the wand'rer's sunless path. 

2. 'Twas Art! — sweet Art! — new radiance broke, 

Where her light foot flew o'er the ground: — 
And thus, with seraph voice, she spoke:— 
'* Tlie Curse, a Blessing, shall be found !" 

3. She led him through the trackless wild, 

Where noontide sun-beams never blaz'd; 
The thistle shrunk — the harvest smil'd, 
And nature gladden'd as she gaz'd. 

4. Earth's thousand tribes of living things. 

At Art's command, to him are given; 
The village grows, the city springs, 

And point their spires of faith to heaven. 

5. He rends the oak, and bids it ride. 

To guard the shore its beauty grac'd; 
He smites the rock; — up heav'd in pride. 
Are towers of strength, and domes of taste. 

6. Earth's teaming caves their wealth reveal; 

Fire bears his banner o'er the wave; 
He bids the mortal poison heal, 

And leaps triumphant o'er the grave! 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 199 

7 He plucks the pearls that stud the deep, 
Admiring beauty's lap to fill; 
He breaks the stubborn marble's sleep, 
And mocks his own Creator's skill. 

8. With thoughts that fill the glowing soul. 

He bids the ore illume the page; 
And, proudly scorning time's control. 
Holds converse with an unborn age. 

9. In fields of air, he writes his name. 

And treads the chambers of the sky; 
He reads the stars, and grasps the flame, 
That quivers round the throne on high. 

10. In war renowned, in peace sublime. 

He moves in greatness and in grace; 
His pow'r, subduing space and time. 
Links realm to realm, and race to race. 

C. Sprague, 



exercise xvii. 
The Soap Bubble. 

"We, like a field of sparkling bubbles, rise, 
Float on, expand, and all our beauty dies." 

Bright globe upon the sun-beam toss'd. 
Pure, sparkling — then forever lost! 
No crested wave that glittering breaks. 
No pearl that wealth admiring takes. 
No diamond from Golconda's coast. 
Can half thy changeful brilliance boast. 

Hast thou a voice to bid us see 

An emblem of our infancy? — 

Our reckless youth, our manhood's strife, 

And all the painted toys of life? 

Then say, thou bright and beautiful sprite, 

"Wherein our likenesses unite. 



200 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

3. Hope spreads her wing of plumage fair; 
Re-builds her castle in the air; 

Its turrets crown'd with frost work bright; 

Its portals fiU'd with rosy light: — 

A breath of summer stirs the tree; — 

And Where's the princely dome? — With ihee! 

4. Behold ! array'd in robes of light, 
Young beauty charms the gazer's sight; 
Fast in her steps the graces tread, 
And roseate chaplets deck her head; — 
But the frail garland fades away; 

The bubble bursts — and she's but clay. 

5. Dilate once more thy proudest size, 
And deck thee in the rainbow's dies; 
Thy boldest flight aspiring dare; — 
Then vanisli to thy native air; — 
Love dazzles thus with borrow'd rays, 
And thus the trusting heart betrays. 

6. Again it swells; — that crystal round 

Soars, shines, expands, and seeks the ground; 
Save! save that frail and tinsel shell ! 
Where fled its fragments? — who can tell? 
Thus when the soul from dust is free, 
Thus shall it gaze, O Earth! on thee. 

Mrs, Sigourney. 



exercise xviii. 
Americans and Britons. 

" The blue waves roll between us." 

Though ages long have past. 
Since our fathers left their home, 
Their pilot in the blast. 
O'er trackless seas to roam, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 201 

Yet runs tlie blood of Britons in our veins; 
And shall we not proclaim, 
That blood of honest fame, 
Which no tyranny would tame 
\Yiih its chains? 

2. While the language, free and bold, 

By the Bard of Avon sung; 
As that which Milton told, 
How the vaults of heaven rung. 
When Satan, blasted, fell with all his host; 
While these, with reverence meet, 
Ten thousand echos greet. 
And from rock to rock repeat 

Round our coast; 

3. While the manners, while the arts, 

'I'hat mould a nation's soul. 
Still cling around our hearts, 
Between let ocean roll. 
Our joint communion breaking with the sun; 
Yet still from either beach. 
The voice of blood shall reach, 
More audible than speech. 

We are One. 

W. Alston. 

exercise XIX. 

The Soldier's Grave. 
General Joseph Warren was buried where he fell. 

1. Blow light, thou gentle breeze, 

Where lies the soldier brave; 
Blast not a leaf upon the trees 
That stand around his grave. 

2. No one should, on his sod, 

With rudeness dare to tread. 
Lest, with a nod, an angry God 
Should lay him with the dead. 
18 



202 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

3. Blow light, thou gentle breeze, 

And worth and virtue save: 
'Tis not the remnants of disease 

That guards the soldier's grave; — 
Then let thy lay be heard to say: — 

" Sleep on departed brave." 

4. Blow light, and let repose, 

The quiet of the tomb, 
And let the rose, which near it grows, 
In yearly beauty bloom. 

5. I would not see his bones arise. 

For all that dwells on earth. 
With shroud unfurl'd, to curse the world 

That gave his being birth: — 
Then gently blow, forever so, 

And sing the soldier's worth. 

Washington Bard. 



exercise xx. 

The Blast of the Simoom. 

The fall of Sennacherib's Army before Jerusalem, 719 B. C. 

1. The Assyrian came down, like a wolf on the fold, 
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold. 
And the sheen of his spears was like stars of the sea, 
When the blue wave rolls lightly on deep Galilee, 

2. Like the leaves of the forest, when summer is green. 
That host, with their banners, at sunset were seen; — 
Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn hath blown, 
That host, on the morrow, lay wither'd and strown, 

3. For the "Angel of Death" spread his wings on the blast, 
And breath'd, in the face of the foe, as he passed; 

And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill. 
And their hearts but once heav'd, and forever grew still. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 203 

, 4. And there lay the steed, with his nostril press'd wide, 
But, through it, there roll'd not the breath of his pride; 
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, 
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 

5. And there lay the rider, distorted and pale. 
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail; 
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone; 
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. 

6. And the widows of Asher are loud in their wail; 
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; 
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword. 
Hath melted, like snow, in the glance of the Lord. 

Byron. 



exercise xxi. 
The Winds. 

" The wind bloweth wheresoever it listcth." 

We come! we come! and ye feel our might, 

As we're hastening on, in our boundless flight. 

And over the mountains, and over the deep. 

Our broad, invisible, pinions sweep. 

Like the spirit of liberty, wild and free! 

And ye look on our works, and say 'tis we; 

Ye call us the winds; but can ye tell 

Whither we go, or where we dwell? 

Ye mark, as we vary our forms of power. 

And send the frost, or fan the flower; 

When the hair-bell moves, or the rush is bent. 

When the tower's o'erthrown, and the oak is rent; 

As we waft the bark o'er the slumbering wave. 

Or hurry its crew to a watery grave; 

And ye say it is we; but can ye trace 

The wandering winds to their secret place? 

And, whether our breath be loud or high, 

Or we come in a soft and balmy sigh, 



I 



204 THE JUNENTLE ORATOR. 

Our threal'nings fill the soul with fear, 

Or our gentle whisperings woo the ear, 

"With music aerial — still 'lis we; — 

And ye list, and ye look; but what do you see? 

Can you hush one sound of our voice to peace. 

Or waken one note, when our murmurings cease? 

Our dwelling is in the Almighty's hand; 

We come, and go, at iiis command. 

Though joy or sorrow mark our track, 

His will is our guide, and we look not back; 

And if, ill our wrath, ye would turn us away. 

Or win us, in pleasantest airs, to play. 

Then lift up your hearts to Him who binds, 

Or frees, at will, the obedient winds. 

exercise xxii. 

The Snow Storm. 

It snows! it snows! from out the sky 
The feather'd flakes, how fast they fly, 
Like little birds, that don't know why 
They're on the chase, from place to place. 
While neither can the other trace. 
It snows! it snows! a merry play 
Is o'er us, on this heavy day! 

As dancers in an airy hall, 
That hasn't room to hold them all, 
While some keep up, and others fall, 
The atoms shift, then, thick and swift. 
They drive along to form the drift; 
That weaving up, so dazzling white. 
Is risino^ like a wall of lio^ht. 

But now, the wMud comes whistling loud, 

To snatch and waft it as a cloud, 

Or giant phantom in a shroud; 

It spreads! it curls! it mounts and whirls, 

At length, a mighty wind unfurls; 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 205 

And then, away! but, where, none knows, 
Or ever will. — It snows! it snows! 

To-morrow will the storm be done; 

Then, out will come the golden sun; 

And we shall see, upon the run 

Before his beam.s, in sparkling- streams, 

What now a curtain o'er him seems. 

And thus, with life, it ever goes; 

'Tis shade and shine! — It snows! it snows! 

Miss Gould, 

EXERCISE XXIII. 

The Beauty of the Deep. 

There's beauty in the deep: — 
The wave is bluer than the sky; 
And thouo^h the liofht shine briorht on \\W\\, 
More softly do the sea-gems glow 
That sparkle in the depths below; 
The rainbow's tints are only made 
When on the waters they are laid, 
And Sun and Moon most sweetly shine 
Upon the ocean's level brine. 

There's beauty in the deep. 

There's music in the deep; — 
It is not in the surf's rough roar, 
Nor in the whispering, shelly shore — 
They are but earthly sounds, that tell 
How little of the sea-nymph's shell, 
That sends its loud, clear note abroad. 
Or winds its softness through the flood. 
Echoes through groves with coral gay, 
And dies, on spongy banks, away. 

There's music in the deep. 

There's quiet in the deep: — 
Above, let tides and tempests rave. 
And earth-born whirlwinds wake the wave; 
13^ 



206 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

Above, let care and fear contend, 
With sin and sorrow to the end; 
Here, far beneath the tainted foam, 
'j'hat frets above our peaceful home, 
We dream in joy, and wake in love, 
Nor know^ the rage that yells above. 

There's quiet in the deep. BrainarcL 



exercise xxiv. 

The Unknown Isles. 

Oh! many are the beauteous isles 

Unknown to human eye, 

That, sleeping 'mid the ocean smiles. 

In happy silence lie. 

The ship may pass them in the night, 

Nor the sailors know what a lovely sight 

Is resting on the main; 

Some wandering ship who hath lost her way, 

And never, or by night or day, 

Shall pass these isles again. 

There, groves that bloom in endless spring, 

Are rustling to the radiant wing 

Of birds in various plumage bright. 

As rainbow hues, or dawning light. 

Soft falling showers of blossoms fair, 

Float ever on the fragrant air. 

Like showers of vernal snow; 

And, from the fruit-tree spreading tall. 

The richly ripened clusters fall 

Oft as sea-breezes blow. 

The sun and clouds alone possess 

The joy of all that loveliness; 

And sweetly to each other smile 

The live-long day — sun, cloud, and isle. 

How silent lies each shattered bay! 

No other visitors have they 

'Jo their shores of silvery sand, 

Than the waves that, murmuring in their glee, 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 207 

All hurrying in a joyful band, 

Come dancino: from the sea. TVilson. 



exercise xxv. 

The Juvenile Orator. 

You'd scarce expect one of my age, 

To speak in public on the stage; 

And, if I chance to fall below 

Demosthenes or Cicero, 

Don't view me wiih a critic's eye, 

But pass my imperfections by. 

Large streams from little fountains flow; 

Tall oaks from little acorns grow: 

And thougii I now am small and young, 

Of judgment weak, and feeble tongue; 

Yet all great learned men, like me 

Once learned to read their A, B, C. 

But why may not Columbia's soil 

Rear men as great as Britain's isle; 

Exceed wliat Greece and Rome have done, 

Or any land beneath the sun? 

Mayn't Massachusetts boast as great 

As any other sister state? 

Or, Where's the town, go far and near. 

That does not find a rival here? 

Or, w here's the boy, but three feet high. 

Who's made improvements more than I? 

These thoughts inspire my youthful mind. 

To be the greatest of mankind; 

Great, not like Cesar, stain'd with blood; 

But like Washington, great in good. 

Everett. 



exercise xxvi. 

Human Love. 

Oh! if there is one law above the rest 
Written in wisdom — if there is a word 



208 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

That I would trace as with a pen of fire 

Upon the unsunned temper of a child — 

If there is any thing that keeps the mind 

Open to angel visits, and repels 

The ministry of ill — 'tis human love! 

God has made nothing worthy of contempt. 

The smallest pebble in the well of truth 

Has its peculiar meaning, and will stand 

When man's best monuments have passed away. 

The law of heaven is love, and though its name 

Has been usurped by passion, and profaned 

To its unholy uses through all time, 

Still, the eternal principle is pure; 

And, in these deep affections that we feel 

Omnipotent within us, we but see 

The lavish measure in which love is given; 

And in the yearning tenderness of a child 

For every bird that sings above his head, 

And every creature feeding on the hills, 

And every tree, and flower, and running brook, 

We see how every thing was made to love. 

And how they err, who, in a world like this, 

Find any thing to hate but human pride. Willis. 

exercise xxvii. 

The Spirit of Beauty. 

The spirit of Beauty unfurls her light. 
And wheels her course in a joyous flight; 
I know her track through the balmy air. 
By the blossoms that cluster and whiten there; 
She leaves the tops of the mountains green, 
And gems the valley with crystal sheen. 

At morn I know where she rested at night, 
For the roses are gushing with dewy delight; 
Then she mounts again, and around her flings 
A shower of light from her purple wings, 
Till the spirit is drunk with the music on high, 
That silently fills it with ecstacy! 



1 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 209 

At noon, she hies to a cool retreat, 

Where bowering ehns over waters meet; 

She dimples the wave where the green leaves dip, 

And smiles, as it curls like a maiden's lip, 

When her tremulous bosom would hide in vain, 

From her lover, the hope that she loves again. 

At eve, she hangs o'er the western sky 
Dark clouds for a glorious canopy; 
And round ihe skirts of each sweeping fold, 
She paints a border of crimson and gold, 
Where the lingering sunbeam.s love to stay, 
When their god in his glory has passed away. 

She hovers round us at twilight hour, 

Where her presence is felt with the deepest power; 

She mellows the landscape, and crowds the stream 

With shadows that flit like a fairy dream; 

Still wheeling her flight through the gladsome air. 

The Spirit of Beauty is every where! Dawes. 



exercise xxviii. 

The Beggar Man. 

. Abject, stooping, old, and wan. 
See yon wretched beggar man; 
Once a father's hopeful heir, 
Once a mother's tender care. 
When too youno^ to understand, 
He but scorched bis little hand. 
By the candle's flaming light 
Attracted, dancing spiral, bright; 
Clasping fond her darling round, 
A thousand "kisses healed the wound: 
Now, abject, stooping, old, and wan. 
No mother tends the beggar man. 

Then nought too good for him to wear, 
With cherub face and flaxen hair, 



210 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

In fancy's choicest gauds arrayed, 
Cap of lace with rose lo aid; 
Milk-white hat and feather blue; 
Shoes of red; and coral too, 
With silver bells to please his ear, 
And charm the frequent ready tear: 
Now, abject, stooping, old, and wan, 
Neglected is the beggar man. 

See the boy advance in age. 
And learning spreads her useful page; 
In vain; for giddy pleasure calls. 
And shows the marbles, tops, and balls. 
What's learning to the charms of play? 
Th' indulgent tutor must give way. 
A heedless wilful dunce, and wild. 
The parents' fondness spoiled the child; 
The youth in vagrant courses ran. 
Now, abject, stooping, old, and wan, 
Their fondling is the beggar man. 

Mrs. Leicester. 



exercise xxix. 
Youth and Age. 

With cheerful step, the traveller 

Pursues his early way. 
When first the dimly dawning east 

Reveals the rising day. 

He bounds along his craggy road; 

He hastens up the height. 
And all he sees and all he he?,rs 

Administer delight. 

And if the mist, retiring slow, 
Roll round its wavy white. 

He thinks the morning vapors hide 
Some beauty from his sight. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 211 

But when, behind the western clouds, 

DepaTts the fading day. 
How wearily the traveller 

Pursues his evening way! 

Sorely along the cragged road, 

His painful footsteps creep; 
And slow, with many a feeble pause. 

He labors up the steep. 

And if the mists of night close round. 

They fill his soul with fear; 
He dreads some unseen precipice, 

Some hidden danger near. 

So cheerfully does youth begin 

Life's pleasant morning stage; 
Alas! the evening traveller feels 

The fears of weary age! Soiithey, 



exercise xxx. 
The Shipwreck. 

** Stay, angry ocean! for thy breast 

The beautiful now bears; 
Rock thy wild — tossing waves to rest. 

And calm their anxious cares." 
Hark! to the sullen answering roar — 

" Beneath my world of waves, 
Eartli's loveliest have sought before, 

The quiet of my caves!" 

" But manhood treads the reeling deck. 

With steps of pride and power; 
His stern, deep voice, man's rage could check, 

In passion's stormiest hour!" 
*' Speak ye of power! — the conqueror's boast 

Of fleets that awe the world, 
Lies shivered on my rockiest coast. 

Or in my depths is hurled !" 



212 THE JUVEx^lLE ORATOR. 

** If wealth could bribe thee, stormy sea!" — 

"My cells are paved with gold, 
With many an empire's treasury, 

In yellow heaps, untold; 
And pearls and gems tliat sham.e the round 

Upon a monarch's brow, 
Are cumbering the quiet ground 

Where monsters rest them now. 

" Nor youth, nor beauty, wealth nor power, 

Can calm me or delay; 
Resistless as the passing hour, 

Is my impetuous way. 
There is no flattery in my ruth. 

Capriciously I spare; 
Death and the ocean speak the truth — 

To hear it, listen there!" 



exercise xxxi. 
Picture of Life. 

Life hath its sunshine — but the ray, 

Which flashes on its stormy wave, 
Is but the beacon of decay — 

A meteor, gleaming o'er the grave. 
And though its dawning hour is bright 

With fancy's gayest coloring. 
Yet o'er its cloud-encumbered night 

Dark ruin flaps his raven wing. 

Life hath its flowers— and what are they? 

The buds of early love and truth, 
Which spring and wither in a day. 

The germs of warm, confiding youth; — 
Alas! those buds decay and die 

Ere ripened and matured in bloom — 
Even in an hour, behold them lie 

Upon the still and lonely tomb. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 213 

Life hath its pang — of deepest thrill — 

Tliy sting, relentless memory! 
Which wakes not, pierces not, until 

The hour of joy hath ceased to be; 
Then when the heart is in its pall, 

And cold afflictions gather o'er, 
Thy mournful anthem doth recall 

Bliss, which hath died to bloom no more. 

Life hath its blessings — but the storm 

Sweeps like the desert wind in w^'ath, 
To sear and blight the loveliest form 

"Wliich sports on earth's deceitful path. 
Oh! soon the wild heart-broken wail. 

So changed from youth's delightful tone, 
Floats mournfully upon the gale 

When all is desolate and lone. 

Life hath its hopes — a matin dream — 

A cankered flower — a setting sun, 
Which casts a transitory gleam 

Upon the even's cloud of dun. 
Pass but an hour, the dream halh fled. 

The flowers on earth forsaken lie — 
The sun hath set, whose lustre shed 

A light upon the shaded sky. 



exercise xxxii. 

The Angler's Song. 

From the river's plashy bank. 

Where the sedge grows green and rank, 

And the twisted woodbine springs, 
Upward speeds the morning lark 
I'o its silver cloud — and hark! 

On his way the woodman sings. 

19 



214 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

On the dim and misty lakes 
Gloriously the morning breaks, 

And the eagle's on his cloud: 
Whilst the wind, with sighing woos 
To its arms the chaste cold ooze, 

And the rustling reeds pipe loud. 

Where the embracing ivy holds 
Close the hoar elm in its folds, 

In the meadow's fenny land, 
And the windmg river sweeps 
Through its shallows and still deeps — 

Silent with my rod I stand. 

But when sultry suns are high, 
Underneath the oak I lie. 

As it shades the water's edge, 
And I mark my line, away 
In the wheeling eddy, play. 

Tangling with the river sedge. 

When the eye of evening looks 

On the green woods and winding brooks, 

And the wind sighs o'er the lea — 
Woods and streams — I leave you then, 
While the shadow in the glen 

Lengthens by the greenwood tree. 

Longfellow. 

EXERCISE XXXIII. 

A Field Flower. 

On finding one in full bloom on Christmas Day, 1802. 

There is a flower, a little flower. 
With silver crest and golden eye. 
That welcomes every changing hour, 
And weathers every sky. 



THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 215 

The prouder beauties of the field, 
In gay but quick succession shine, 
Race after race their honors yield. 
They flourish and decline. 

But this small flower, to Nature dear. 
While moons and stars their courses run, 
Wreaths the whole circle of the year, 
Companion of the sun. 

It smiles upon the lap of May, 
To sultry August spreads its charms, 
Lights pale October on his way. 
And twines December's arms. 

The purple heath, and golden broom. 
On moory mountains, catch the gale. 
O'er lawns, the lily shades perfume, 
The violet, in the vale. 

But this bold flow'ret climbs the hill, 
Hides in the forest, haunts the glen. 
Flays on the margin of the rill. 
Peeps round the fox's den. 

W ith the garden's cultur'd round. 
It shares the sweet carnation's bed, 
And blooms on consecrated ground 
In honor of the dead. 

The lambkin crops its crimson gem. 
The wild-bee murmurs on its breast. 
The blue-fly bends its pensile stem. 
Light o'er the sky-lark's nest. 

'Tis FlorcCs page — in every place. 
In every season, fresh and fair. 
It opens with perennial grace. 
And blossoms everywhere. 



>'J» 



216 THE JUVENILE ORATOR. 

On waste and woodland, rock and plain, 
Its humble buds unheeded rise; 
The Rose has but a surnmer-reign, 
The Daisy never dies. 

Montgomery. 



THE END. 



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